#who is he to tell me these when he had several girlfriends‚ has many close friends‚ could ask for money from his parents to go out with them

[supermusicallee]

he read the line "she is not out of your league, just out of your price range," agreed with it, i said yes being social costs money but why put this on just women, he stayed silent for two minutes, abruptly hung up, texted him are you joking, he replied with a thumbs up, called him twice and he didn't pick up

[kaivenom]

Spider had a girlfriend who moved away (the reader) spider became more cold towards everyone, one day during school the reader shows up telling him she moved back and everyone gets to see the real spider ( gentle and sweet) the reader and spider end up getting back together and everyone is shocked

Smile again

Summary: you moved away years ago, while starting high school, but know after so much plead to your parents, they let you finish the year on your hometown, which revolt things on Hartley's.

Pariring: Spencer "Spider" White x reader

Warnings: a little bit of angst, mostly fluff

A/N: sorry for the waiting, now that exams are finally over (i hope) i could finally finish this, i hope the person that requested it likes it.

Masterlist

You were excited to come back to your home, seeing your old friends and especially your ex-boyfriend Spider. When you left, neither of you had a choice, you were much younger and couldn't make decisions right. Plus, being so young means that your relationship wasn't entiretly serious, but that doesn't mean your liking for him got smaller. Another plus, neither of you had a phone so you couldn't track each other.

You don't know what to expect, he would still like you?, he would want to try a relationship with you again?, what if he already has a girlfriend?

All that questions blurred your mind while you go to the high school, while you signed the papers of your registration and while you crossed the courtyard. The only thing that was able to snap you back into reality was the ring of the bell and all the students getting out of class.

You heard your name being called by several people, you were thankful they recognized you and seemed so happy to see you. Everyone started to hug you, it's incredible how you only lasted a couple of second in recognizing which person was everyone. They had changed a lot but the still had some features that help you identify them.

But still, you couldn't find the blonde, if he is still blonde, you thought. Suddently you recognized Ant, you yell at him to catch his attention but not only him turned around. Your eyes met a tall blonde boy, his eyes oppened dramatically once he saw you...once he recognized you.

Both of them started walking to you but the blonde went faster and run to you. His arms were big and felt like crushing you but his scent was familiar, he is Spider.

"(Y/N)!!! i can't believe you are back!!" his arms were still around you, his voice sounded excited to see you and that relieved you a little.

"I can't believe it either, i don't konw how you recognize me, we both changed a lot."

With that said, now he let you go, his face is clearly red from the comment and he now looks a little flustered.

"I can't believe you are so big and tall."

"I can believe you are still so tiny... but you look good."

"You do too," now you both are flustered, you needed to change the subject, "How is your life going?"

"Good, well, an idiot made a map and now we are on a extracurricular class named SLTs." you couldn't believe at started laughing like a maniac, inevitably Spider started laughing too, "oh god, i can't believe how much i missed your laugh."

And now you are flustered again, his eyes laid on you with an intensity you couldn't believe was possible. He oppened his mouth like he was about to tell you something but closed it again.

"It was good to get to know you again." you said trying to break the awkward silence.

"You didn't get to know the new me, we only talked to minutes." he said dramatically.

"Well, maybe we have to hang out and get to know each other again after so many years." he took a moment to think what to answer.

"Maybe we can also take things were we... left it." he was nervous that you were going to reject him but you couldn't me more happy.

"Yeah, of course, gladly, yeah.... i should probably shut up." his laugh pleased your ears again.

"Nah, i always liked when you are flustered... but maybe we should move."

His finger pointed to the crowd that has been watching you both all the time, how could you forgot they were there?

"I can't believe it, Spider is a total jerk, how could he suddently..." Darren made a mimic of Spider's laugh.

"I am surprised too, this is good for a study." then Quinny took out a notebook.

"When i can hug (Y/N) too? i am the only one who didn't gave her one."

Ant was clearly sad about the hugh, after all you called for him, not Spider. You gave Ant the hug he wanted and went back to the blonde.

"How about we go now?" he nodded at your suggest.

"You can go were i work and..."

"No," Spider shutted Darren down, "we won't be calm if we go there, right now i want to disappear from here, right?"

His hand moved next to yours, so clearly you accepted it and started running with him. You didn't know were he was taking you, but you were sure it will be amazing with his company.

[stsgluver]

synopsis. zenin naoya and his lack of respect for women. [part of the dynasty series]

wc. 970

tags/warnings. rich boy!gojo, idk what else, zenin naoya exists, established relationship

a/n. i switch between present and past (like five mins prior) throughout BUT IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE PLS LET ME KNOW. this has been sat in drafts for 2 months.

“i wouldn’t have stopped you from punching him.”

gojo scoffed, pushing his hands through his hair frustratedly. the two of you sat together on the cold stone steps outside of some large historic building. 

“i don’t think i would’ve stopped,” he let out a ragged breath and you rested one of your hands on his knee. his fingers naturally came to intertwine with yours and you think you saw his shoulders relax ever so slightly at the contact.

a silence settled between you, but it wasn't an awkward one. your boyfriend was reliving the last hour and you were doing your best to try and forget it.

“is he always like that?” you asked quietly. the he in question being zen’in naoya. 

this was the first event that you had attended with gojo, and the first event gojo had ever attended with an actual date. he’d always turned down all of the girls his father offered to him (the children of other tech ceo’s that his father was encouraging him to get close to only for the benefit of his own bank account) and he’d never had a real girlfriend to bring prior to you.

“unfortunately,” he hummed quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles lightly. you shivered from the cool breeze and dared to shuffle closer to him. 

you’d experienced many sides of gojo since you’d begun your relationship, but never had you seen him so irritated that he couldn’t verbally communicate it. he was the one who annoyed people to the brink of insanity, with his cocky remarks and over-the-top, excitable behaviour. few people had ever tried to one up him, and even fewer were successful in managing to get under his skin.

zenin naoya, though, loved the challenge.

“do you think your dad will mind if we’re out here?” you asked tentatively. gojo’s hand reflexively tightened briefly around yours at the mention of his father, his jaw clenching. 

several minutes after gojo had led you inside the elegant infrastructure (to say you were getting imposter syndrome was an understatement), he’d left you by a confectionery stand in search of geto. according to him, you looked ‘too pretty’ and he didn’t want your dress to be ruined in the crowds. in other words, the less you mingled, the less likely you’d be harassed by his father’s rich peers – he’d already ‘accidentally’ knocked one drink over onto a woman who dared to hiss the word ‘gold digger’ under her breath as you passed.

it had to have been less than thirty seconds before the zenin appeared by your side, a sickening smirk on his twisted face. you knew who he was, you’d seen him once or twice around campus and you’d heard the stories, but you’d never been this close to him; not close enough to breath in the expensive cologne that smellt cheap.

“probably,” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky.  “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have brought you here.”

you nudged his shoulder gently, “i wanted to come.”

a mistake on both of your behalf – though neither of you could have predicted that naoya would try and make a scene when you rejected his advances.

"you two alright?" 

both of you turned your heads back to see geto coming down the stairs towards you with a little skip in his step.

once naoya had your attention he wasted no time getting to his point – bigging up his status and telling you how gojo’s dad was doubting gojo’s position in the company. if you wanted a real man, in his words, you needed him. 

obviously, you’d given him a disgusted look without much thought and denied the offer, taking a step back to try and find your tall, white haired boyfriend in the crowd (an oddly difficult task). you figured you were safer weaving through a crowd of high society snobs than you were spending another minute here. naoya, though, was persistent and didn’t hesitate to pull you back towards him with a harsh grip.

"just trying not to bash that zen'in's skull in," gojo muttered as he gently traced the red marks on your wrist. it looked worse than it felt – the pain had dissipated pretty quickly once you’d broken from naoya’s hold.

"i could get on board with that," the dark haired male dropped down next to you on the stairs, stretching out his legs and smoothing down his pants.

"geto.” 

you figured out pretty quickly that gojo and geto were a package deal. best friends since diapers and equally as resentful to their parents’ ways of life and the pretence they’ve been raised in. two sides of the same coin, both of which willing to go extraordinary lengths for the other with no regard for consequences.

such as the jail time that would come with the aggravated assault of naoya.

though you would give it to geto – when gojo and him got to you and naoya, it was him who was ushering gojo to just take you outside, not to engage with the spoiled man child. 

“geto,” geto mocked you with a grin, shrugging carelessly, "the kid’s an ass. he’s got it coming."

there was no more than a second until geto spoke up again, with an idea you were sure he’d had from the beginning of the night, his plans had just been accelerated: “shoko’s house is free now. her parents are away so she wasn’t forced to attend this bullshit,”

gojo’s head perked up at this, looking above your head at his best friend, “you think she’ll have the stuff for a smoke?”

“it’s ieiri,” you said in a ‘duh’ tone because when was she not smoking something. how she was top of her classes, you’d never know.

“god bless that girl,” geto blew a kiss to the sky.

taglist. @hyori2 @ja-zz @animeflower26 @jar-03

[ghostgirl-22]

It’s November so… uh Happy Halloween 👻

18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Day 31: That one time at the Halloween Party

Pair: Artrick + Tashi

It ends upstairs in the bedroom of some star baseball player, Tanner Mulligan, he’s got a full ride to Stanford just like Tashi. Patrick has no idea who the fuck he is but both Art and Tashi seem to know him. It’s how they got invited to his Halloween house party in the first place. There were so many people, hell Patrick probably had a full conversation with him but he doesnt remember much before the bedroom.

He remembers what they dressed up as. He was Mario, red sweater, blue jeans, gloves, a dumb cap and mustache that kept dropping off so he gave up. Tashi was the princess peach in a short little knock off pink dress with frills and a crown. And Art matched him in green but still so blonde he could’ve been a princess too.

It was supposed to be a couples costume but obviously Patrick would never choose if he could get away with it. So they all went together. Art still desperate for his girlfriend and Tashi still playfully amused about it.

It doesn’t matter though. Patrick can handle him. At least that’s what he thinks.

Art is popular among the tennis team but everyone at Stanford seems to adore Tashi. So it was just easier for Patrick to spend the night with Art and watch Tashi work the room. Besides he’s got prime real estate, a spot next to Art crowded onto one of the sofas.

Well it’s not easier, Art’s sitting between Patrick and one of his tennis friends that clearly has a huge crush on him. It’s so fucking obvious to everyone… except probably Art.

It’s ironic actually.

Patrick would go commiserate if he didn’t hate the guy. He’s working on Art, when Patrick’s not even there and Patrick thinks he’ll lose it if someone else gets to fuck him first.

Thankfully Art’s oblivious to the fact that the boy is steadily bringing him drink after drink to get him drunk. Something Patrick might do if he imagined they could make out at the end of the night. It annoys him though that this guy seems to know this about Art.

So Patrick takes Art’s drinks when he’s half done nearly every time to slow the process. It does earn him several frustrated glances from Art’s new boyfriend to which Patrick smirks in response. If he wants it he can get in line. Art’s conveniently oblivious to their silent feud, though. He’s busy pointing out girls in slutty Halloween costumes.

“Isn’t she your type?” Art asks about at least three different girls. Patrick thinks maybe Tashi has broken him because as hot as some of these girls are they aren’t really on Tashi’s level for him.

Even more amusing, Art must notice him watching, when Tashi chats with a group of 4 or 5 boys dressed as zombie football players because he leans over and whispers. “Brandon is the quarterback, he has a crush on her, they’re in the same biology class.”

“Shut up,” Patrick says.

“What? I’m just saying…they work in the lab together. He’s kinda handsome, right?”

Patrick looks at him, smirking. “You’re such a manipulative little shit.”

“I’m not being manipulative, I’m just literally telling you about him,” Art hiccups, snatching his drink back and taking a sip. He’s already drunk. Such a fucking lightweight.

“Yeah Patrick, I think he’s right. You should go check on your girl. I mean… they are standing kinda close.“ It's Art’s crush. He really wants Patrick to leave and Patrick really wants to tell him to fuck off.

“So I go over there and fly off the handle. Tell her she can’t talk to any boys and she tells me to fuck off and comes crying to you right?” Patrick says to Art and he shrugs, shit eating grin on his lips.

He’s not wearing the Luigi cap or mustache any more, boy crush playfully snatched it so Art would take his hat and so he’s got on this Indiana Jones Fedora. He looks stupid cute. If anything Patrick would tell him not to talk to any more boys. He trusts Tashi… at least enough to know she wouldn’t fuck around without telling him. But Art would do it and think nothing of it. They aren’t dating after all…

Tashi walks over then with another friend, some pretty girl with long braids, dressed like a vampire in thigh high stockings just like Tashi’s except black instead of white.

“This is my boyfriend, Patrick,” she says smiling at her friend. “Patrick this is Olivia. She’s my RA.”

”Hi,” Patrick says, trying to focus on her face and not their legs. He’s had enough drinks though that he’s fantasizing about them tangled up together. Tashi’s clearly tipsy or something, one of her white tights is slipping down her calf, her crown is on crooked, her eyes are glassy and she looks dangerously close to spilling whatevers in the red solo cup she’s holding.

“I’ve definitely seen you before, trying to sneak around so you could spend more than three nights in a row in her dorm room,” Olivia says laughing.

“She’s the reason we got away with it,” Tashi grins, she lifts her sleeve back up on her shoulder and it immediately drops again.

“I love you,” Patrick tells her friend and she smiles.

“Look I love her but don’t do it again. I need this job,” Olivia says.

“We won't, he's staying with Art tonight,” Tashi says.

“Technically the rule goes for the whole building but I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that…since I’m not his RA.” Olivia says.

“And that’s why we love you,” Tashi links their arms and they start chatting two feet in front of them. Art’s not being subtle, he’s looking at Tashi’s thighs while boy crush asks him if he wants another drink.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Patrick asks Art.

Art hiccups and points over at a line of people waiting near a closed door. Patrick groans. “I don’t think I can wait.”

”There’s another one upstairs you can go to,” boy crush says. “I’m sure there’s no line.”

“Come with me,” Patrick says to Art.

“But then we’ll lose our spot on the sofa,” Art points out, his eyes drifting back to Tashi’s long legs.

“I can show you where it is,” Tashi says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” Patrick gets up. And of course Art stumbles to his feet too and Patrick smirks. “I thought you wanted your spot.”

“I uh.. I might have to go too,” Art says.

“The group costume is so cute,” Olivia laughs looking over the three of them.

“Thank you,” Tashi curtsies adorably in Olivia’s direction and Olivia grins. Tashi takes his hand and he reaches for her cup before she almost spills. “My bad,” she giggles and she gives it to him. “It’s rum and coke.” Tashi says in his ear.

He takes a sip as they go upstairs. And the alcohol seems to hit him harder as they’re walking around. The second bathroom is full. It seems like there’s a couple hooking up in there. Tashi giggles as she presses her ear against the door.

“I think there’s another bathroom,” Art hiccups.

“Lead the way,” Patrick says.

That’s how they end up in Tanner’s bedroom in varying degrees of inebriation. Tashi sits on the bed to pull up her white knee high socks she can’t stop giggling and it makes Patrick smile.

”How do Mario and Luigi even know a princess anyway? Aren’t they plumbers? And what’s with all the turtles?” She’s cracking herself up and it makes him and Art laugh.

“And…” Art adds. “what the fuck is yoshi?”

”He’s a fucking dinosaur,” Patrick says.

This cracks them up even more. Everything is so funny and Patrick thinks if he doesn’t catch his breath and go in the bathroom soon he’ll pee his pants. But the funniest part is when Art leans in and kisses him. It’s just a little at first, and then again. Then he’s pushing his tongue in Patrick’s mouth.

“Mm,” Patrick steadies him. “Hold that thought while I pee.” He whispers.

Tashi giggles. “You two are fucking now, huh?”

“God, imagine,” Patrick rolls his eyes.

Art blinks like he’s just realized where he is and what he’s done in front of her. “I didn’t mean to…” he starts.

“I know,” Patrick smirks. “It has been well documented that you didn’t mean to every single time it happens.”

Art rubs his face. “I’m really drunk,” he groans.

Patrick can’t hold it any longer. He goes in the bathroom and when he comes out he’s not surprised to find the two of them making out. Art’s doing exactly what he might do to Patrick when he gets dizzy drunk. Trying to get on top, straddle her. And Tashi is playing her fingers into his hair pulling him closer.

If it was anyone but Art he’d probably be pissed. Instead he’s having trouble catching his breath.

He walks closer to the bed and plays with a strand of Tashi’s hair. She seems a bit startled and she pulls back looking up at him a little guilty. “Dont be mad… you kissed him first.”

“It’s okay…it’s hot,” Patrick says, quietly. He feels dizzy, his cock is already full in the steps it took for him to reach the bed.

Tashi bites her lip and pulls her hair back squeezing her thighs together. Arts licking his lips… they’re all messy covered in her gloss. His mouth now stained the same color as hers. He stares up at Patrick, lips parted, eyes dilated. Patrick’s one step away from blue screening.

“Are you two gonna fuck?” Patrick asks.

Tashi sits on her hands, crossing her legs. She can’t sit still… it’s such a tell. “I thought you two would.”

Art shrugs and Patrick snatches the fedora off his head, as cute as he looks Patrick kinda hates that he’s wearing it. “You know he wants to fuck you right?” He tosses it on the bed.

“Who Carter?” Art sniffles. “No he doesn’t. You think everyone wants to fuck me.”

“No he does,” Tashi says, grinning. “I thought you wanted him too. You guys flirt all the time.”

“Because he can’t help himself,” Patrick says, teasing his fingers into Art’s hair.

“He’s my friend.” Art says.

“How many times have you kissed him?” Patrick asks.

“Only twice,” Art hiccups. “Mm and I was really wasted and confused. So it doesn’t count.”

“What the fuck?” Tashi giggles.

“He’s a menace,” Patrick straddles him on the bed. Art leans back on his elbows.

“Mm not being manipulative.” He murmurs.

“No of course not,” Patrick leans over him and takes his mouth. It tastes good, the way Tashi’s lipstick tastes. He licks Art’s lips and Art licks his tongue, pushes it inside Patrick’s mouth deepening the kiss. He can hear the beat of the stereo thrumming through the house and Tashi taking light breaths. He feels Art getting harder as he grabs Patrick’s face, he’s such a good kisser. It’s not surprising that Carter wants him drunk to do it again and again.

Patrick moves his hand down to unzip Art’s jeans and grips his swollen cock. Art gasps, licking his lips as Patrick pulls back. “I get to fuck you first,” Patrick whispers. “Right?”

Art moans as Patrick works on him. “I’m not even… oh fuck…he’s just my friend, Patrick.”

Tashi takes a breath and crosses her legs again.

“I know, and you’re such a good friend Art. Till you're tipsy in his bed with your mouth on his cock.”

“No,” Art breathes. “It’s not like that…He’s not like you.”

“Not like me how?”

“Patrick,” Art says breathlessly as Patrick stops touching him.

“Not like me how?”

“Mm so drunk,” he whines, squirming and stretching out beneath Patrick. Patrick traces Art’s mouth with his fingertips and he opens up right away. Sucking them inside while staring up at Patrick.

“Jesus Christ.” Patrick breathes. He ponders what to use for lube because he needs to fuck him right now or he might go insane.

Tashi lays on the bed next to Art. And Patrick slowly pulls his fingers out watching her.

“You’ve never had anything inside you?” She asks, softly playing with his hair..

Art closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I promise it feels so good,” she whispers. “Really fucking good.”

“God,” Patrick breathes.

Art opens his eyes and turns to look at her shyly. She grins, touching his cheek and he kisses her. Patrick grips him again, he’s gentle with it. He doesn’t want Art to come yet but he’s dripping, dripping, dripping wet from the tip. Art sighs as Tashi pulls back, her fingers lingering in his hair.

”You’re such a pretty boy,” she says softly. “You should let him fuck you.”

“Your boyfriend?” Art says.

“Mmhm,” Tashi says, quietly. “Or maybe… you want to fuck him?”

Patrick thinks he’s in love with her.

Art bites his lip and reaches for Patrick’s zipper. Patrick doesn’t waste time waiting for him. He undoes it himself before getting Arts jeans all the way off.

Art gazes at him and hiccups, grinning. “You want to put it in me?” He’s come apart like a little slut, legs spread wide, flushed all down his neck, cock so full, heavy. Patrick starts to grab at his sweater and Art lifts it off. Patrick doesn’t have lube but Tashi has a condom that’s covered in it in her bag so Patrick kisses her. She grins against his lips and helps him take his sweater off.

Patrick then looks at Art beneath him, nothing but raw, needy, anxious energy. He nudges Arts thighs further apart and kisses him. Slowly. Letting it build.

Art lets him, stretched out beneath pushing his tongue in and out like sex and moaning till Patrick can’t take much more. He positions himself and feels Art starting to tense. He presses…slowly… and Art starts to react as the tip enters.

“Wait…” he breathes. And Patrick thinks he might kill him. Just take the pillow and smother him. He slips out again and licks his top lip forcing himself to calm down.

“Yes?” He says breathlessly.

“What if someone tries to… tries to… is the door locked?” Art asks.

“I can lock it,” Tashi says.

”She’s gonna lock it,” Patrick says, and Art nods. Patrick goes to try again and Art sighs.

“Patrick wait… have you ever… have you ever done this before?”

Patrick presses his lips together trying to find the best answer that will lead to the least amount of follow up questions.

“Art I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” Tashi says, climbing back on the bed.

“Okay,” Art breathes.

“Okay?” Patrick says raising his eyebrows.

“Can you go slow? I’ve never…” he trails off and he sounds oddly lucid.

“Yeah I’ll go slow. But you’ve got to let me fucking go or you’re gonna kill me,” Patrick says.

Art nods again and adjusts his head on the pillow. Patrick bends over so their faces are inches apart and he cradles Arts face in his hands. “Just close your eyes. I’m only gonna fuck you like a friend. A really good friend.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Art says, biting back his smile. Patrick licks at his mouth and Art opens for him. Another kiss and a moment later Patrick starts again easing into what is honestly deliciously tight wet heat. Art is squeezing right away which feels insanely good. Fuck. Maybe he’s having a religious experience. He’s wanted this for so fucking long. He’s halfway in and Art is pulling his legs up on either side of him.

“Oh fuuck… Patrick…” Art moans breathlessly. And Patrick thinks he’ll probably embarrass himself and come on one or two strokes if Art's voice continues to sound like that.

When he gets fully inside Art is holding his breath. And Patrick smiles and slowly pulls back. When he’s mostly out, Art breaths out again. He’s fucking shivering.

Patrick pushes again and gazes at him, rubbing his stomach. “Okay?”

“Mmhm,” Art says, tense.

“Relax. Breathe through it,” Patrick says, probably talking to himself more than anything.

Art nods and tries to let it out. Patrick is pretty proud actually for lasting this long. He goes for it again and Art’s breathing so deep and then he moans.

“Is it okay?” Patrick asks. The sound is going to kill him. Make him nut inside all prematurely like he’s fucking sixteen.

“Yes,” Art says. He’s still shivering. “Mm fuck… yes, yes, yes,” Art moans into his ear.

Tashi sighs and Patrick can see she’s got her hand between her thighs. And fuck, this moment is gonna do permanent damage to Patrick’s brain. He thinks he might die actually.

Patrick is something like five strokes in before Art breaks him completely. He’s watching Art’s tummy rise and fall when Art begins moaning for it in earnest and clenching so tightly.

It’s so fucking delicious that Patrick knows he won’t last much longer… he thinks of death, dying, his sister, his mom, his stupid brother…anything to keep himself together but nothing is fucking helping. So he grips at Art’s cock and starts jerking him… thankfully it only takes twice before Art’s spilling all over himself, his hips jerking up erratically and the sound, the sounds he can’t tell who’s doing what anymore…even his own voice is foreign to his ears. Patrick just loses it. Just fucking can’t anymore.

“Fuck,” Patrick groans, collapsing on top of him.

Art takes shallow breaths. “Mm Patrick?” He tangles his fingers in Patrick’s hair.

“That was,” Tashi whispers, her voice still pitched with arousal, she’s trying to catch her breath. “Did you like it?”

“Mmhm,” Art hums.

“I told you.”

Patrick can hear them kissing again.

He’s ready to fall asleep right here. Listening to them. Listening to Art's heartbeat. He thought that this would fucking cure him but he might actually be more sick over Art than he was before he fucked him. He’s certain everything that just happened in Tanner's little bedroom will be permanently etched into his memory. Even if the rest of the day isn’t.

He knows they eventually got dressed and that maybe they mixed up the red and the green. He doesn’t know what the fuck happened to the fedora or Carter for that matter. He remembers going back to the dorm. Watching Rocky Horror picture show. Tashi falling asleep in Arts bed while he slept on the floor with Art. And he remembers Art doesn’t pull away when he links their fingers together.

———————-

Thank y’all for reading. Master list is here.

[sl-ut]

tipsy

pairing: jake lockley x fem!reader, slight marc spector and steven grant x fem!reader (reader is in a relationship with the system)

description: y/n returns from a night out with her girls and can’t resist from how beautiful her boyfriend is.

warnings: SMUT, reader is intoxicated (just tipsy, not wasted) and kind of a bitch, mocking, oral (m receiving), shower sex, moonboys arguing

words: 3K

date posted: 18/01/23

The apartment was silent when Jake jolted awake, save for the bubbling of Gus’s fish tank and the faded roar of London’s nightlife. He groaned, neck clicking back into place as he leaned back into the desk chair, cursing at Steven for nodding off in such an uncomfortable position. His sight was fuzzy, eyes still heavy with sleep as he glanced at his surroundings; several books on Egyptology laid spread open across the top of the desk, an uncapped highlighter tossed carelessly on the floor and a series of fluorescent yellow smudges staining his fingertips. Sighing, he pushed himself away from the desk, leaving it exactly how he found it–Steven could clean up his own mess–as he reached into the cupboard for a bottle of amber whiskey. 

He took three small sips from it, careful not to allow himself to feel any sort of strong effects from the alcohol, as he always did when Y/n went out with her friends, always prepared to go pick her up in the early hours of the morning if he needed. He glanced at the clock on the oven, squinting to read the bright green letters.

3:36 AM.

His eyes immediately shot over to the bed, alarmed when he found the blankets in the same haphazardly made fashion that Steven had left them in as he rushed out the door to work; the boys had quickly learned to do so in order to avoid a lecture from their girlfriend. 

“Damn it Steven, you were supposed to stay awake until she got home,” He swore as he turned to meet Steven’s snarky stare in the reflection of the window. 

I’m sorry, but she’s not normally out this late, Steven huffed, Usually a night out has her home and in bed by midnight.

Jake, He turned his head to find Marc in the reflection of Gus’s tank, He's right, she should be home by now.

Panic arose in his chest. Quickly, he abandoned the bottle of whiskey on the desk as he crossed the small studio apartment, forcing himself through the closed bathroom door. He called her name frantically, catching Steven once again in the bathroom mirror.

I’m sure she’s alright, maybe she called after I nodded off.

Jake nodded, turning into the bedroom and pausing. The personal cell phone that they all shared was not in its usual place on the bedside table, nor was it in the pants that Steven had worn to work that day, or small pocket inside his satchel. Jake ignored the Brit’s yelling of discontent as he watched him dump the contents of his brown leather bag on the floor, searching through the mess of papers and granola bar wrappers.

“Where the hell did you leave it, Steven?”

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a key shakily being jammed into the lock, trained eyes watching as the lock began to turn and the door slowly creaked open, and finally letting out a breath of air as he watched his girlfriend stumble over the threshold of the apartment. 

“Helloooooo,” She sang out, jumbled giggled falling from her lips, “I’m here, somebody come love me, please!”

Jake shook his head as he stifled his chuckle, stepping forward and into the dim lighting provided by Steven’s desk lamp. His eyes did a quick scan over her body, searching for any sign of blood or injury, though the only sign of a struggle was the long run in her tights and her lack of shoes.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, though a mischievous grin spread across her cheeks as she leaned across the back of the couch, “Well hey there, big boy.”

He smirked, copying her posture as he rested his shoulder against one of the many vertical beams. He could tell by the way that she was looking at him that she was attempting to figure out exactly who she was talking to. Her eyes flickered over to the desk, taking in the dishevelled appearance of the books and the man who had once been sitting there. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

He nodded at her, refusing to speak so that she would need to guess which one of the three it was. On a regular day, it would be easy for her, but in her state it might have been more difficult. 

“Well,” she slid forward to stand in front of the desk, “These are all Steven’s books here, but from the looks of them,” she fingered at the crumpled and folded pages before glancing over her shoulder at him, “And you, he fell asleep.” She turned, pushing the books back so that she could boost herself onto the edge of the wooden desk, “But Steven doesn’t drink whiskey.”

Jake nodded once more as she gazed at him through hooded eyes, slowly fluttering her lashes in a manner that she knew would have any of them weak in the knees. He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest to mock the way that Marc might stand. 

“Hi Jake.”

He scoffed, dropping his arms as he crossed the room to stand right in front of her. He allowed her to tug him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and sliding her hands over his arms to knead his biceps gently. 

“How’d you know it wasn’t Marc?”

She smirked up at him, leaning closer to whisper into his ear, “You didn’t look grumpy enough.”

His head rolled back as a hearty laugh rumbled out of his chest, growing even deeper as Marc shouted in protest and Steven agreed with her. 

“Oh,” He rested his hand on his belly, “He didn’t like that, princesa.”

She shrugged, leaning forward to nudge his nose with her own, “He can punish me for it later. But for now…” Her hands slid down his arms, around his back and landed just above his bum as she tightened her legs around him, “I’m all yours.”

He allowed her to press a warm, sloppy kiss to his awaiting lips, but didn’t allow it go any further as she began to wiggle against him. 

“We were worried about you,” He told her, “You’re usually home a lot earlier.”

“I know,” She shrugged, “I called and texted.”

“I couldn’t find the phone,” He admitted.

She raised a brow as she glanced down, nodding in the direction of where the phone was almost entirely covered in scattered paper, save for the corner. 

“Well apparently I didn’t look quite as hard as I could have.”

“Apparently not.”

Where are her shoes?

“What happened to your shoes?” He asked, both genuinely concerned and hoping to change the subject from his failure to find a scarcely hidden cell phone. 

“I took them off.” She shrugged, “I think Jenny has them.”

Now what if she had stepped on a needle or-or a sharp rock? 

Check her feet, they might be bleeding. 

Jake did as Marc instructed, stepping away and unwrapping himself from her limbs so that he could inspect her feet. They were dirty, of course, and the sheer fabric around the bottoms of her feet was torn up. There appeared to have been a few scrapes from the sidewalk, but the worst of the injuries were the two large busted blisters on each of her heels, oozing blood and various other fluids. 

“Shit, cariño.” Jake rushed to the bathroom, returning a moment later with the first aid kit. 

“That’s why I took ‘em off.” She shrugged, leaning back on her palms and allowing him to care for her feet, flinching as his fingers touched the swollen areas around the blisters. 

He sat in the unsteady office chair, carefully pulling her feet into his lap and tugging at the tights, “Can I rip these?”

She barked out a laugh, “Now you’re asking? You’ve ripped a lot of my nicer things off of me without any notice.”

He grinned up at her, ignoring the heat that grew in the tips of his ears at her lewdness. One thing that he always appreciated about these nights out was that she always lost all shyness and reservation the moment that a single drop of alcohol touched her tongue. 

“You certainly didn’t mind all those other times.”

“That’s because you rocked my world right afterwards. You gonna do that now?”

He glanced down, not ignorant to the way that his pants grew tighter at her words. 

She’s drunk, Steven argued, Don’t take advantage of her.

“You’re drunk,” He noted, tearing the material away from her feet and beginning to dab at the open sores. 

“Tipsy,” She corrected, “And horny. Please?”

He shook his head softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her kneecap, “Tomorrow, cariño.”

Y/n groaned, “I don’t want it tomorrow.”

He raised his brow as he finished cleaning her heels, “Oh really? I’ll keep that in mind. Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

She shook her head, pushing past him–making sure to bump his shoulder as she did so–and pausing in the bathroom doorway, “I need to shower.”

He sighed, carefully packing the first-aid kit back up and leaving it on the desk before making his way over to the bed. He leaned back against the headboard, glancing over to the partially closed bathroom door, only allowing him to see the vanity, though the mirror allowed him to see the figure he’d been longing for. 

He watched the reflection as she carefully peeled herself free of the ruined tights before reaching for the zipper on the side of her dress. His breathing became laboured as he watched each article to fall away, leaving her bare to the world as the mirror began to gloss over with steam. 

Go for it, Marc advised, If she’s really that mad about it then she’s definitely not that drunk. She’s never this unreasonable when she’s drunk.

Don’t, Steven argued, She’ll get over it.

Jake groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as the two argued in his mind, “Shut up, both of you. I can’t even hear myself think.”

He pondered for a moment, then finally made his decision. 

The bathroom was frosted in steam, Jake’s body temperature skyrocketing as he stepped inside. He glanced down at the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, withholding a groan as he recognized the familiar pair of pink lace panties that had been thrown on top, carefully dropping his own clothes on top. 

The curtain prevented him from spotting any details, but he could faintly make out her figure as she stood beneath the pounding stream of hot water. She did not seem surprised to hear the curtain run quietly along the track as he stepped in, refusing to turn to face him as he stepped into the stream as well, wrapping his arms carefully around her waist and holding her back to his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” He murmured into her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, “I don’t wanna take advantage of you, mi amor.”

She was frustrated with him, but she simply couldn’t avoid the way that she slumped into his embrace so easily. She sighed, tilting her head back to rest against his shoulder as their eyes met, a silent understanding.

“You wouldn’t be,” She argued softly, “But it’s okay.”

He kissed her lips softly, one hand coming up to grasp at her hair and help her to remove the remaining suds of shampoo. He pushed her gently to stand a bit further from him, allowing him to run a generous amount of conditioner through the ends of her hair. When he was finished, she turned, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and pressing herself against him.

“I love you,” She whispered into his shoulder, but he heard nonetheless. 

“Yo también te amo angel.”

He felt the corners of her lips turn up against his flesh as she glanced up at him, wickedness clear in her eyes.

“What are you–oh!”

He gasped as her hand moved down, wrapping firmly around his length, which had been unabashedly erect against her thigh as they embraced, proving to her that he truly did want her. 

“Let me do you,” She whispered to him, beginning to administer slow pumps, “That’s all. Please, Jakey.”

NO!

Looks like she’s going to either way, bud. May as well enjoy it.

She kissed him softly, taking his eager response to her as permission. Cautious not to slip, she lowered herself to kneel in front of him, gazing up at him through her lashes as she carefully dragged her tongue up the bottom of him, cupping his sack in her slick palm. 

He groaned, leaning back against the wall in submission to her. She giggled, pressing the softest of kisses to his flesh before finally taking as much of him into her mouth as she could manage. Jake choked on his own spit, one hand carefully finding the nape of her neck to support her movements while the other ran through his own locks, smoothing the wet curls out of his face so they couldn’t obstruct his view.

“Baby-shit,” His hips stuttered forward, his tip grazing the back of her throat.

Her mouth curved around him, though she did not pause or slow her movements to respond with some witty comment, as he knew she had wanted to. 

Hey!

His eyes snapped up, finding Steven staring back at him in the reflection of the stainless steel shower head.

“W-what now?” He stammered out, not noticing the way that she glanced up at him, but didn’t stop; she was more than accustomed to the boys talking and arguing with one another while she was having sex with one of them.

Shut the water off! I don’t even wanna look at the bill we’re gonna get this month.

Jake almost laughed, hell, he probably would have if he hadn’t been balls-deep in his girlfriend’s mouth. Reaching over, he grasped the handle and turned the water off before turning back to watching her. She raised a brow, a silent question.

“Steven complained about the water bill,” He explained, groaning as she choked slightly around him as a small laugh vibrated around her body.

He pressed on the back of her neck, prolonging the feeling of her choking around him for a few moments before pulling her back and hauling her up to her feet. His lips met hers in a furious kiss, tongues intertwining and teeth gnashing as he grasped at her thighs, carrying her out of the shower and dropping her onto the countertop as if she were a doll. 

Eagerly, she spread her legs, grinding against him. He pulled away, moving down her body in hopes of returning the favour, though he was stopped by her, grasping his chin tightly and pulling him back up.

“No, no,” She gasped, “I need you. Please, I just need–”

“It’s okay,” He soothed, pulling her to the edge of the counter and lining himself up, “I got you, I got you.”

He slid into her easily, her folds sopping with arousal. Another perk of these nights out was that she was always so ready for him, and was always so responsive to his touch. He laughed as she squirmed against him, crying out louder than she normally would as his tip kissed her cervix. 

Y/n rocked against him, meeting his every thrust without fail and shivering as her clit continued to be tickled by the dark curls on his pubis. Her arms wound around him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his muscular back as she gripped him for dear-life.

“Jake,” she gasped, “I’m not gonna last long.”

“I know,” He grunted, hands grasping her bum to pull her into his thrusts even more, “Me neither, princesa.” 

“I love you,” She cried out over and over as if it were some spell that she might have been using to bewitch him–that was the only way that Jake could explain how he was so easily manipulated by her every whim and became so enthralled by her simple presence. 

“I love you,” He panted, “I fucking love you.”

His mouth took her lips, absorbing every sigh and moan that dared escape and committing them to memory. He wanted to encase every little bit of her being within himself, consume anything that she was willing to offer, especially her jerking movements and desperate whines as she tightened around him, spilling her release all over his member as he struggled to hold on.

“Come on,” She urged him, eyes hooded and hazy as she came down from her high, “Jake, come on. Please give it to me.”

Her words were enough, his hips stuttering through his final few thrusts before white-hot pleasure exploded within him. He groaned out loudly, following through with a few gentle movements to work himself through it before he slipped out.

They remained there for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s arms as they both came down, melting into one another and whispering sweet nothings. She kissed his shoulder softly, then reached up to meet his lips once more, allowing herself to force every ounce of love she had for him to flow through the embrace.

He chuckled when she pulled away, “Aren’t you glad I said no now?”

She shook her head, “You only made yourself suffer, I could have woken up Marc or Steven to do me the second you fell asleep. I was getting it one way or another.”

He frowned at her, pinching her thigh in retaliation, “You think that either of them could do what I just did?”

Watch it, amigo. I could have done her twice as hard as you did.

Jake grinned at his reflection over her shoulder turning back to his girlfriend, “By the way, Marc called you unreasonable.”

HEY!

[noparadiseinthis]

This is the first time I've posted here and it's also the first time I've written in English. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles.

How I feel when I see you right in front of me

Spencer Reid/fem!reader

Warnings: mention of previous drug addiction, mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of the reader's mother's cancer (sorry, it's for the plot), angst (I think)

Summary: Spencer has a new girlfriend. You're everything he could wish for. Unfortunately, you doesn't know about his previous "habit" and leaves something in plain sight. Is Spencer strong enough?

Words: 614

For Spencer, you're more than he deserves at any time in his life, but especially at times like this. Staring at the small tablet in front of him, Spencer knows he should have told you when things started to get serious, but he couldn't. He couldn't see the look in your eyes. He couldn't see the look in your eyes. He couldn't see the look of disappointment on your face when you found out you were seeing an addict - a former addict.

At least that would have avoided the situation. When you told him you'd buy your mother's medication and leave it at his house until you picked it up later, he didn't take much notice. He didn't think to ask what medicine she was taking. It seemed so obvious now. What else could a woman with cancer be prescribed?

Now Spencer looked at the morphine tablets as if they were his salvation or his worst enemy. Remembered all too well the feeling, the lethargy, the anxiety that itched under his skin when the effect wore off and he had to inject again. Morphine and Dilaudid weren't exactly the same thing, but they were close enough for her mind to flood with memories. For his skin to itch again. His arm was red and scratched, with perfect marks from the path his nails had traveled.

It's been so hard, Spence, you cried into his chest one night. Caring for a sick mother was enough to bring anyone down, he knew that more than anyone, which was why he resisted that tug on his flesh that led him to pick up a tablet. Just one, she won't notice. You didn't need him to become a burden in your life. You deserved someone better, someone worthy. Someone who didn't look at your mother's medicines as if they were a feast.

Getting sober was a long and arduous process, which he thought about interrupting several times. Now and then, when it got too hard, he thought about stopping something else too. His life. He never wanted to enter that spiral again. He couldn't throw it all away.

Spencer couldn't do many things, but it was still so easy. Reach out, take one of them, and put it in. Would such a small dose still have an effect after so long? Maybe he could try.

He grabbed his hair, forcing himself to think of you, of your proud smile every time he started telling you random facts about the least interesting subjects, but you listened anyway, with love in your eyes. A love he didn't deserve.

Sitting on the sofa, Spencer's hands drummed on his thighs. He didn't even blink anymore, staring at the morphine in front of him. The moment his fingers moved of their own accord, testing the texture of the table next to his enemy of the moment, the door to the living room opened.

"Spence, are you home? I've come for the medicine"

He had never felt so relieved to hear your voice, and immediately withdrew his hand, still horrified at the fact that he had almost reached her. Almost destroyed everything.

When you approached him, Spencer forced himself to form the most genuine smile he could manage, hugging you tightly.

"I love you," he whispered against your temple.

I love you and I'm not strong enough. Over his shoulder, Spencer was still looking at the pills. Wondering if he'd be able to hold back next time. Wondering what you'd say if you knew.

"I love you too," you said when you came out of his embrace, smiling fondly as you held your boyfriend's face in your hands.

That didn't help him.

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

[outlanderskin]

The Thing About Rationality and Logic

Someone who was stopping shipping once told me that she was doing it because she was a very realistic and rational person and her life was based on logic. So I asked her if by that she meant that people like me live in fantasy or are irrational. So, I patiently explained that what made me a shipper was exactly logic, more than imagination or fantasy. Because the logical explanation for many events in S&C's trajectory would be that they are together, but they don't want the outside world to know that they are.

I'll cite some examples: when you have a best friend and someone in that person's family dies, what logically do you do? You see, we're talking about best friends, very close people who publicly say how much they value each other and are close. The logical thing would be for you to show solidarity, post condolences and behave publicly in a discreet manner, in solidarity with the loss of that person you love so much, especially because you (by logic) probably have known the deceased relative. The logic would be stay by your best friend's side, support the family. But what we saw in that sad august days, (showed ostensibly for us to believe) was something that no logical answer about "best friends/siblings" could explain. The only way to explain the narrative created in those days would be that they are two people with a cordial, but superficial, relationship and I believe that from what has been stated by the two all these years, not even the Antis deep down believe that they are not close. . Again I ask: what is the need to hide that you were supporting your best friend in an extremely painful moment in anyone's life? Many people (famous or not) do this publicly, because after all it is not a crime, it is the expected logical behavior. So... Why hide it? We know what really happened because this a logical thing, but the others believe firmly he was not there for her.

Let's move on to another point: the man of the year award (or something like that); How can you logically explain that you chose your mother, your best friend and your co-worker to thank, as the most important women in your life? You who apparently had many "girlfriends", who still gets along well with your discreet ex-girlfriend who lives on another continent, who has others close female friends, but didn't mention any of them along with your co-worker. I've seen several men receiving tributes and the Acknowledgments always include the mother, another older woman of reference and the wives, girlfriends, fiancées. The only time I saw a co-worker mentioned (and that was after his mother, grandmother and wife), was when the achievement was due to his work at the company, so it was logical to mention the department secretary. What would then be the logical explanation for that speech?

Something that also defies logic: if I have a best friend and that person is in a relationship, I will obviously include that person's boyfriend/girlfriend on my list of people with whom I am always cordial. I'm not going to publicly act like the person doesn't exist in my best friend's life. We have a wonderful example of how CD & LL treat each other's boyfriends/girlfriends and they don't hide it. This is how it is when we think logically.

Another little point where logic calls us: your male best friend might talk about a female artist with admiration...you don't need to tell him "behave", after all he's not your husband. The most you can do in the case of friendship is admire her or say you don't like her, never act like you're jealous.

Maybe it's just me, but I never went on my best friend's social media to complain because everyone in the photo was wearing a suit and he wasn't. I also never apologized or justified why he didn't wear a tie. I do this normally with my husband. Because it's logical for wives to do this.

These are just small points, where thinking logically justifies what we believe. So anyone who thinks that we are not rational, live outside of reality or do not have logical reasoning is mistaken, or has not yet stopped to think logically.🙃🙃

[billybangbang]

Fuck, he has a beard

Billy Butcher x reader

In this story, I made Becca Butcher's sister just because I can but also I think it would be interesting to see how he would be especially with a reader who acts like a big sister to Hughie.

Summary: Hughie is on a revenge path and Butcher is more than happy to help. He lost someone to the Supes too. His sister Becca. They came from an abusive household and after Lenny's death, Butcher gets his sister out of there too. The two moved to New York where Becca gets a job at Vought and soon after goes missing. Y/N older cousin of Hughie, wants to cheer him up with some takeout. She wants to have some dinner in the store after closing when some invisible shit decides otherwise. Entrance of some devilish handsome man named Butcher.

Y/N: She/her

Without describing the reader, I use neutral language as possible. However, some character traits:

The reader is older than Hughie

the cousin of Hughie

Due to some struggles early on in life she had a late start to Uni

She is over the normal college age but still doing her Master's

Disability struggles mentioned such as anxiety and later on going deeper into this issue and where her anxiety comes from

Slowburn and I mean SLOW.

Warnings Overall for the story: nudity, violence, sexual content, blood, gore, all the boys warnings basically. Smut in later chapters.

Non-native English speaker, and dyslexic

Prolog 

You were walking to your next class when you got the call. “Something happened to Robin.” You immediately felt your heart drop. The voice on the other side was shaky. Breathing in deeply you moved out of the mass of students trying to get to their next class. “Is - is she okay?” You watched the other students walk past you with smiles on their faces, chatting excitedly or sipping on their Chai Latte. All the while, you tried to hold it together, forcing a smile on your face even though your heart was pounding so hard you swore it would jump out of your chest any minute. “Y/N, she is dead.” Just like that, your younger cousin's girlfriend was gone. 

Today was Robin's funeral. God you hated funerals they made you so uncomfortable. Everyone was solemn and sad. But mostly, you hated to show your own feelings but whenever someone was crying you could not help but get choked up yourself. For the most part you had your hands interlocked pressed together to give you something else to focus on. Trying to breathe in slowly, easy, and steady. 

“Do you want me to come back with you, Hughie?” He just shook his head, his eyes red rimmed. He hadn’t spoken much since Robin’s death. Sometimes you wondered if he was still in shock. “I can stay with you for a couple of days,” you stepped closer, grabbing his hand. Desperately trying to make eye contact hoping to see anything but that shell shock look in them. “No, no, no, it’s fine,” he squeezed your hands before letting go and taking a step back, “I am fine.” He forced a smile and turned towards his dad who was waiting by the car. 

Chapter 1 

It had been a couple of days since you saw Hughie. You had called once but his dad picked up and told you about the settlement and how Hughie wanted to fight it. You could tell that Hughie Sr. was not happy about that and the resulting fight. Now, you were even more worried. Breathing in deeply you took your laptop and some snacks and made your way to the library. If Hughie wanted to file a wrongful death he needed all the help he could get. So for the next couple of hours you searched the internet for any kind of dirt you could find on the supes and some legal cases where family members actually filed for a wrongful death lawsuit. There weren’t many, at least in New York, where you focused on for now. From what you could tell several were dropped by the family, some dismissed by the judge and generally Vought won. In the small incidents the family did win, it was against some D-Lister Supe who did not receive support from Vought and was basically thrown to the sharks. How had you never noticed just how convoluted all this Supe stuff was? You had no idea how much help you would be for Hughie but all you could do was be there and support him. And maybe fight someone if he needed to. 

After you had researched, what felt like an eternity, yet in reality had only been two days, and compiled some stuff that made you feel like you could actually support your sweet, mild tempered cousin you packed up. It was time to see Hughie, even if he had ghosted you for the last couple of days. 

You walked downtown towards your guy's favorite Chinese Take-out place. You had picked up two portions of sweet and sour chicken, a white claw for him and some aloe vera drink for you. Hughie should get off work in the next 10 minutes. So you thought you could eat a late backroom dinner like you had done many times before. Usually you would get some food and once he closed up the shop you would eat and talk for a while in the backroom. Some days it was the best part of your day just goofing around with the lanky twink you call your cousin. 

Hughie didn’t even look up when you walked in. “We are closing soon, what can I help you with?” His tone was void of his normal happy customer voice. “I really need some forks,” for a second he looked confused. You held up the bags smiling at him. “Did someone order a backroom dinner?” He got up from his slouched position walking towards you with a smile, hugging you close to him. “God sometimes I forget how tall you are,” you reached up and tousled his hair. “Y/N what are you doing here?” “Well,” you lifted up the bags to say duh. 

“Close up for me, will ya?” Gary walked past you too. Immediately you crooked your head to the side and gave him a sweet smile. “Hi Gary.” He just grunted and walked out of the shop. “Damn one day I will make him my husband.” You joked. Hughie gave you a small chuckle for your antics, making you smile even more in return. “I’ll get the plates set up. You do whatever you do out here.” You waved him away as you made your way to the backroom. 

It had been five minutes when you heard Hughie exclaim: “What the fuck!” and a loud bang. You dropped whatever you had in your hands and ran towards the exit. Shit, shit, shit. You thought. Hughie better be giving whoever was jacking him up right now whatever they wanted. I mean it is New York, wasn’t the first time you had witnessed a mugging. But you were not prepared for what you saw when you spied through the backdoor into the shop. Hughie was lifted from the ground seemingly by nothing and flung across the room. What the fuck indeed. You pulled out your phone, only to realize that it had died. “Shit!” But in reality what would you do? Call the police? Yeah hey, so my cousin is getting attacked by air, yeah doubt that would fly. They’d just think you're some crackhead. 

You saw the TV being ripped from the wall and about to be brought down onto Hughie when somewhere in your shock you managed to grab the broom from the entrance. You ran out towards the floating TV, raising your broom, you screamed and swung. So not air, there was definitely something there. The broom shattered completely. You were just left with some splintered piece of wood in your hand. You let out a small nervous “ha” laugh, shrugging your shoulders as if to say my bad. 

“Who the fuck are you?” the invisible man replied. You took some steps back toward the back room again. What the hell are you gonna do now? “Y/N, run!” Hughie was still trying to catch his breath on the ground, struggling to get up. You were more than tempted to run but could you really leave Hughie here? Translucent lifted the TV again, and without thinking you stepped towards Hughie when suddenly a loud crash rang through the store. Jumping backwards you crouched down next to Hughie covering your head. 

A car? A fucking car just drove through the front. Jesus Christ what the hell was going on? You thought to yourself. Suddenly a tall man, with a dark beard and a large coat stepped out of the car. “Sorry about the mess.” The accent threw you off for a second but hey this is New York. Hughie and you stared in complete shock at him but he spared you guys no second glance. “You should fuck off, Hughie.” With that he stepped up to Translucent with a crowbar in hand. You just stared at him for a second before the stranger screamed. “Hughie, run!” 

Your senses kicked in again and you quickly helped your cousin up. Meanwhile in the background you could hear the Brit go. “Well, well, well, if it ain’t the invisible cunt,” before engaging in a fight with him. You put Hughies arm across your shoulder supporting him as you two made your way slowly to the back exit. But before you could leave, Hughie stopped you. The Brit was on the ground, bloody and about to be beaten with a crowbar. Before you could stop Hughie he crawled on the floor towards a cable that stuck out of the wall. “Hughie,” you hissed, “come back here.” Fuck! What an idiot. You were about to drag your cousin back by the ankles when the Brit kicked Translucent and everything went bright. You could hear the sizzling of the skin and his screams before everything went quiet with a thump. 

It took you a second to orient yourself and blink the bright spots from your vision but then you were just relieved to see Hughie standing there and the invisible shit on the ground. The Brit was already on his feet too, kicking Translucent for good measure. 

“What the hell is going on?,” you stepped up to Hughie hissing quietly to him while eyeing the Brit. Hughie couldn’t answer as the Brit spoke up. “Let’s get him in the boot.” Both you and Hughie looked at him in bewilderment. “What?” you said in unison. “Wait, wait what? Wait, what, what?” you cousin so eloquently elaborated on your what. 

The Brit, covered in blood, bent down and picked up Translucens legs, grunting as he nodded towards the car. “The trunk.” You had to give it to the stranger. He could definitely take a beating. The blood made his beard look even darker. And if it were any other circumstances you would have thought him handsome but right now was not the time to eyefuck a handsome, older stranger. 

“No,no, I mean, what are we-- , what are we - - what are we doing with him?” You had watched the exchange silently still reeling from the last 5 minutes. But it seemed like the two knew each other which was news to you. You had met all of Hughies friends, since you were older than him and since his mom left you always made sure to check in on him, protect him. Your friends used to joke that you had a grandma instinct, always pampering the younger ones. Taking Hughie and his friends out for ice cream and making Hughie hot chocolate when he had a nightmare. For a while you had lived in the Campbell household and once you had your own place you made sure to always make time for Hughie. 

Shaking your head, you took a deep breath. Get yourself together this is not a time to panic. Hughie needs you. You looked at him and all your grandmother's instinct kicked into high gear at the side of Hughies face covered in blood. Paying hardly any attention to the conversation going on around you. “Well, Hughie, you just off’d one of The Seven, mate.” “Me? I -- You-you hit him with a fucking car!” “Look, potato, fucking po-tah-to. We’re both in a shitload of trouble.” “Make that three,” you interjected. But neither of them paid you any mind you might as well have been invisible like that shit on the floor. You tried to keep up with their conversation but you felt like you had skipped the beginning of a book and were now in the middle of it with no idea what was going on. 

Wait, did he just say federal officer, FBI? What the hell was going on. You already knew once this shitty situation was over you would wring out even the smallest of detail about what the heck was going on out of Hughie. 

“Do you hear that? That’s the old bill,” you could hear the sirens clear as day and only getting louder. Shit you were so goddamn fucked. Before the Brit finished you were already moving, grabbing one of the arms of Translucent. What was the point in arguing? All the reports you had read the past few days flashed into your head. There was no winning here; you had to get rid of the body. No way in hell were you going to let whatever the fuck happened here ruin Hughies or your life. “So unless you want to explain why you’ve got America’s favorite invisible wanker dead on the floor, give us a fucking hand, will ya?” The guy crouched down again. It was the first time he had spared you a glance. It was quick, but you could feel the intensity behind it, the scan up and down your body before returning to the issue. You had met his slightly crazed stare head-on, not one to back down even if you wanted to. And by God did you want to, you wanted to grab Hughie and run but in no way was that going to happen. You could see Hughie panicking, his breath coming out in short puffs, his eyes wide. You wanted to do nothing more than help him calm down but this was taking too much time. You looked at him, willing him to look you in the eyes to convey just how urgent this was but before he met your eyes he snapped out of it. “Aw, shit!” Hugh grabbed the other arm and all of us started dragging the guy towards the car.

The Brit was not just tall, you noted but also fucking strong, while he was lifting the guy off the ground Hughie and you were barely strong enough to hold him up for a few seconds before he was dragging on the floor again. 

Once we got to the car, the Brit apparently had enough, and realized this was taking too long. He pushed you and Hughie off to the side. “Get the legs, would ya lad?” With one strong lift he had Translucent under the arms and up near the trunk. Quickly you and Hughie scrambled to get his legs up. “I need to do more cardio,” you whispered out of breath. The Brit shot you a lopsided smirk before smashing the trunk close. “Ain’t that a shame, but I can lend a hand if ya need it,” he said with a crooked smirk and a shake of his head. You just raised one of your eyebrows to say you think that line works? 

He walked past you, no scratch that, he sauntered passed you towards the driver side of the car. The sirens of the police now impossibly close. Hugh quickly got into the passenger seat while you scrambled into the back middle seat. For now you just let Hughie take the reins on the conversation. You just listened and observed to figure out exactly what was going on and how you could get your cousin and yourself out of it. You kept glancing at the Brit in the driverseat. Watching his jaw muscles flex under his rather nice looking beard. You had to admit you had a thing for men with beards, and you really wanted to reach out and feel it between your fingers. Once in a while he looked in the rearview mirror to check if the cops were following or to glance at you. Everytime you met his gaze head on. You knew the type. The type like him who dominated every room he walked into. The smirk, the sauntering cocky attitude. If you had learned anything about men like that you had to establish dominance from the get go. Show him that you were not some pushover, even if you felt like one on the inside. And truth be told you were freaking out, but putting on a smile when you did not want was one of your strengths. 

You looked from the blood on the side to his face, down towards the barely visible jawline underneath his beard, down to his coat, and up his arms. Your eyes landed on his hands, already forming bruises and covered in blood, holding onto the steering wheel. You expected to see his knuckles white from the strong grip he had but no, it almost felt like he was taking a joy ride. What kind of man was lazily holding the steering wheel after offing a man. 

Oh my god, you just off’d a man. Fuck, it hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in a car with a stranger and your sweetheart cousin. A body in the trunk and driving god knows where. Fuck how many times did you tell Hughie not to go to a second location with someone you don’t know. Yet, here you were doing exactly that. 

Thumb, Thumb. “Oh, thank fuck, he's alive.” Hughie exclaimed, while you froze in shock, still turned toward the trunk. “Yes, yes, he’s alive!. Okay, pull over.” A part of you was relieved the asshole was not dead. At least you did not have to add accessory to murder to your CV but another part of you, a bigger part, realized now that the guy was alive this shit was not over. Before you could voice your concern the Brit interjected. “No, no, no, Hughie, you don’t fucking get it.” But Hughie was having none of it. “Pull the car over.” “This is a fucksight worse. He’s seen our faces.” Hughie just stared at the guy confused and panic once again settling in. “Hughie,” you softly said, while leaning forward. “He is right.” You weren’t really sure what you just agreed to, or how bad it would get but for now the one thing you could do was calm Hughie down. “Oh, my God. No, no, no, no. I can’t do this.” You leaned even further forward in your seat “Hughie.” You tried to grab his arm but he shook you off. “I can’t do this. Let me out.” You tried again “Hughie, you gotta breathe for me okay. Just take a breath.” But to no avail “Let me out. Pull over!” He yelled, or what counted as yelling in Hughies book. You had to admit you agreed, you wished you could just get out of the car and just go. “Hughie,” the Brit strictly said, drawing your attention. You gave him another once over. The Brit was still steadfast, almost calming to look at. His tone made you immediately want to fall in line and go along with whatever he had planned. “You walk away now, and you will never get payback for Robin.” This? This is what this was about? Jesus Fuck! Your first instinct was to throttle Hughie for getting involved with this shit. But on the other hand, you got it. If you had someone you loved taken from you like that. God only knows what you would do probably burn the world down. It seemed like he had finally gotten through Hughie who just sat back and accepted his fate. 

The bearded man's confidence did not waver. “I know a bloke. Top man. He’ll know what to do.” Oh, no. A secondary location and some ‘top bloke’ recommended by some stranger, whose car you were in right now. Yeah, that did not sound sketchy at all… Should have stayed in bed today. 

You had been quite in the back of the car. Only the thumping and cursing from your invisible friend was audible to you. You were driving deeper into a sketchy neighborhood of abandoned and run-down buildings. The longer you drove the more you got nervous. You still had no idea who the guy was. Well besides knowing that he impersonated a fed to get your cousin to do so. You were ready to strangle the guy for getting Hughie involved with this. I mean common, look at him, he was tall and lanky and awkward. Did he look like the criminal type? Definitely not. You should have insisted on moving back into the Campbell house, at least for a while. If you had been here for him then maybe you would not drive to a second location right now. But at least you were here now and if need be, the Brit was the next body in the trunk. You held onto the anger that you felt. Anger was better than the panic. 

Sighing you leaned back into the backseat, your jaw already hurting from the times you had clenched it throughout the evening. The Brit shot you a look through the rearview mirror. Smirking, he adjusted his position to sit up a bit more straight. “Sorry, luv, guess I ain’t got my manners tonight. Being a right down cunt not introducing myself” You raised an eyebrow at him. Unimpressed with whatever this “flirting” he was doing. There was no way you would let a pretty face get in the way of your anger. “The name is Billy, Billy Butcher,” he turned to you for a few seconds. “Billy, really? I think cunt sounds about right.” You retorted in a rather monotone voice. Or the asshole who got my sweet cousin into some murder shit, you thought. You could practically feel his smirk. Hughie had turned to you looking rather guilty. Yeah, you better be, you thought. You shot Hughie a look he knew all too well, and he knew he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. “Ain’t that just a pity, Billy sounds good coming from your mouth.” Rolling your eyes you leaned back into the seat, crossing your legs, trying to make yourself look more like a bitch. “Loads of things sound good coming from my mouth. Like what the fuck is going on!” “Y/N,” Hughie interjected. Your eyes darted to him for a minute, your staple ‘don’t fuck with me right now’ look in your eyes. ���Aye, we got ourselves in a bit of trouble, didn’t we, darling?” He was more than amused by you, and it made your hands itch to reach out and smack him. “From where I am sitting I can only see one troublemaker.” “Well, well, well, sweetheart you’re about to meet one more.” Billy had stopped outside some rundown building that looked even more sketchy than the Brit. Oh, we are so fucked, you thought. 

He stepped out of the car, waiting for you and Hughie to get out. You looked at him for a second trying to convey just how pissed and ready to fight you were. Slowly you stepped out of the car, never looking away from him. His smirk intensified, and that small wiggle of his head that he seemed to do was present. You would have thought it endearing if you were not so angry. Not even his broad and tall statue could disway you. You stepped up to him, doing your signature eyebrow raise. You had no intention of backing down first. Hughie just awkwardly stood to the side, watching your staring contest with wide eyes. 

Billy realized you had no intention of backing down and he sure as shit had no time for this. He took a step back and rolled his eyes as he walked towards the building. “Get a shift on. We got shit to do.” With that he disappeared between the heavy steel doors. 

You shot Hughie a look, “We’re gonna have a talk later.” It was not a question, it was a command. 

You followed Billy through the door and already you had a pit in your stomach wondering how much further you would follow Billy. Yet you knew, you’d follow that dark mysterious, and devilishly handsome man through hell and back. 

French rap music sounded throughout the warehouse. You were greeted by a dark-haired woman with the most intense blue eyes you had ever seen. She took a particular interest in Hughie, touching his face. All you could do was watch in bewilderment and wonder if whatever she had she would be willing to share. You vaguely heard Billy call her Cherié and ask for a ‘Frenchie’. 

You were not prepared for what was in front of you. Weapons upon weapons. You subconsciously took a step closer to Hughie. If there was something that scared you it was guns. You hated how easy they were used by people and the loud bang always made you jump. Your roommate and you had made a game out of fireworks or gunshots? Admittedly you had lived in a rough neighborhood but you were only a student. What else was there to afford? 

“Monsieur Charcuter.” So this was Frenchie. If it were not for all the weapons and what not you would think him cute. So this was the top bloke Butcher was talking about. Seems like Frenchie did not think of Butcher as a top bloke. You moved closer to Hughie. “Hughie, I think we should book it,” you whispered to him. He turned to you in shock as if you had slapped him. “What, Hughie? It is not like he could go to the police and say ‘hey some people bailed on us while getting rid of a body.’ Common, what can they do?” You were eyeing the door ready to take off. “No, no, this isn’t -- We can’t do this, Y/N.” You slowly grabbed Hughies arm ready to pull him along with you. “I’ll make an excuse for us to go outside and once we are we run,” you hissed. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes you were ready to step forward and tell them you had to smoke one and talk to your cousin for a second in private. 

“Who is this guy?” Frenchie asked. Great now that their attention shifted to you too, there was no getting away. “Oh, this here is Hughie Campbell. And--,” Butcher waved at you. “A friend.” Yeah, a friend. Jeez the guy did not even care to learn your name. On the upside they had no idea who you were and honestly you preferred it that way. “We’re, uh, working a little job together.” Sure if this is what you want to call it.  Hughie looked as uncomfortable as you felt, but hell would freeze over before you showed any sort of discomfort. You stood, with a straight face, that many of your friends had called a resting bitch face, shoulders back and attention fully on the guys before you. Watching them like a hawk, only glancing at the woman who was clearly on something or just plain crazy. 

“And he’s still alive?” You felt bile rise up in your throat. What was that supposed to mean? Suddenly, flashes of Hughie being tossed around bloody and groaning in pain came to mind. And then silence, him dead on the floor and there was nothing you could do. 

“You and I worked together, and you’re still in one piece,” Butcher retorted. It should have been reassuring but it definitely wasn’t. From what you could tell the french guy was in the business of whatever the hell you and Hughie gotten involved in. Judging by the scars all over Frenchies body a stark contrast to the baby smooth skin Hughie had. Yeah, great, you both will be dead by sundown, you thought. Now you need a cigarette for real. 

The French guy gave in and all of you made your way outside to the car. The fresh air felt good and made you feel more relaxed. You fished a pack of cigarettes out of your coat pocket. Quickly lighting it between your cherry red fingernails, with your pink Hello Kitty lighter. Taking a long drag you felt relief flooded your senses. God this was a disgusting habit but better than reaching for a bottle and getting shitfaced drunk. With your luck, you would end up at the police station telling them everything that happened last night. No alcohol was not an option you had to be in control.

You stood a couple paces away, when Butcher opened the trunk and electrocuted Translucent. This is when Frenchie freaked out. You nodded for Hughie to come to you, if this was going south you wanted him out of the line of fire. Luckily, Butcher is an asshole and managed to get Frenchie into this shit too. 

Frenchie and Butcher walked back inside. “Hughie and Iwill keep an eye on the invisible asshole.” You commented offhandedly, your gaze fixed on no one in particular. You took a drag of your cigarette, releasing the smoke and shooting a glance at an unmoved Butcher. “Well, luv, I don’t think this is a good idea,” You knew he was worried you would let the guy go and take off but you didn’t care for that right now. You needed to talk to Hughie. “Like you said, he’s seen our face.” You threw his own words back into his face. “I think we should--,” You shot Hughie a look to shut him up. It worked, as you knew it would. It was the same look you gave him when he was a child and in trouble. Taking one last drag from your cigarette you stomped it out underneath your boots before stepping up to Butcher. My God, how tall was this guy? You smelled a whiff of engine oil, sweat, and leather. Not a combination you thought would be so pleasant. “Imma, talk to my cousin. But don’t worry luv we will be right in.” Butcher gave you a once over, leaning into you with that signature smirk. “No, need to get your knickers in a twist, aye now, shirty.” Oh, you could see it already you would end up smacking this cocky son of a bitch. But for now, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. You continued to stare at him, not wavering at his gaze. However, you could not help but clench your jaw, your muscles slowly tensing up underneath your skin. Of course, the asshole saw this and smirked even more giving you his signature head wiggle. But you were not backing down. Finally, he rolled his eyes, turning around. “If you are not back in five I’ll come get ya myself.” 

Hughie had watched the exchange in awkward silence. He knew you were not going to back down and felt relief when Butcher finally walked back inside with Frenchie. “Okay, look--,” Hughie started. “No,” you simply said. Already you were itching for another cigarette. “I don’t want excuses or some washy explanation. You will tell me everything that happened that let us to a run down warehouse with some fucking gun runner and some british asshole.” Hughie took a deep breath, ruffling his hair before telling you everything. From Voughts offer of 45k to meeting Butcher and planting a bug. You listened closely, growing more and more frustrated and angry at the same time. “Jesus Christ, Hughie a bug? What were you thinking? Why did you not come to me with this?” “What, so you could tell me I can’t do it?” Hughie yelled. “Because I am a loser who can’t even ask his boss for a fucking raise?” You were shocked at his outburst, stepping closer you wanted to sooth the boy in front of you. In some way he was right you did not see him as a man, for you he was the sweet boy who wanted to play superhero with you and cuddled up to you when a scary scene was on screen. “No, Hughie that is not-” But he would not hear any of it. “Because I don’t have the fight. All I am good for is selling some electronics, coming home, sittin on the couch, watching TV, and eating Pizza rolls?” You let him rant on for a while longer, never seeing Hughie like this before. By the end he was out of breath, his chest heaving. You leaned against the wall of the warehouse, racking your brain about something you could say to make things better for him.

“You know what I’ve been doing the past few days?” You asked Hughie, confusion on his face. “I’ve been researching cases of wrongful death lawsuits against Supes.” You pushed yourself off the wall. “Because I was ready to stand with you, not in front of you, but side by side ready to fight for justice for Robin with you.” You stepped up to Hughie. “Because I don’t think you are some loser who can’t do anything. But because I think you are a good man who wants to do the right thing.” You shook your head in disbelief about all the shit he just told you. “But this. This is a fucking mess.” Hughie sighs deeply, “I know, I know, okay? I didn’t know what else to do” You did what you wanted to do since the store, you hugged Hughie. He clung to you. “We are in this now, you realize that, right?” You pulled back, taking Hughies face into your hands. “But we are going to get through this okay? ‘cause we are not fucking losers.” You grabbed Hughies hand, “common we have a shithead to take care of.” With that, you both walked into the building again. 

Once you arrived at the new place you would keep Translucent the boys and you got to work. Carrying box after box with God knows what. But for now you were not going to ask questions and just do as you were told. Once everything was settled in you brought in your captive. Translucent was put into an electrified cage. To say he was unhappy when he woke up was an understatement. He was cussing you out something fierce 

Hughie was leaning on the wall next to the door that led to your captive, while Butcher and Frenchie leaned opposite each other on the table. You had planted yourself up on the counter. Your question of what now had been ignored and the two men were arguing back and forth when Hughie spoke up. “Wait, you're going to kill him?” “Well, we didn’t bring him here for a fucking Happy Meal.” You almost let out a snort at Butcher's sassy remark if the situation was not such a mess. Before the argument could go further you interjected. “What about a diamond drill?” This got the attention of all three men. “What?,” Hughie said. “You said that his skin was tough as diamonds,” you talked directly to Frenchie. “Or more, who really knows,” you added.” You pushed yourself off the countertop and walked to the table where Frenchie and Butcher were located. “If it is as tough as diamonds a diamond drill should do the job.” You could not believe the words that came out of your mouth. I mean you were talking about murdering a man. Frenchie looked at Butcher whose gaze was still on you. Shrugging his shoulder he nodded. “Worth a try, no? But maybe a less medieval weapon would suffice.” With this Frenchie got to work, mixing stuff and overall did things you had no idea about. Instead of probing him more with what he meant you just stepped back jumping onto the counter once more. “I’m gonna see about an old friend,” Butcher said, leaving you and Hughie alone with the French man. You watched Frenchie work in silence. You were glad that Hughie did not try to talk to you, you were absolutely drained. The rollercoaster of emotion catching up with you. You could feel how things started to overwhelm you, your head pounding and the noise grating your nerves. You abruptly left the basement making your way upstairs. You walked through the rows of tables and seats, past the boxes of guns and other supplies before settling down on a bench near the door. You took off your jacket, balling it up and using it as a pillow. You were lying on the bench staring up at the cracked ceiling, your brain completely numb. You finished out your phone before realizing it had died the day before. Looking towards your left you saw an outlet, but you were far too tired to move an inch. You let your arm fall to your side again, ignoring your phone problem. 

Hughie watched you leave the room, his constant frown still on his face. He knew he had fucked up and even more so by dragging you into this mess, even if it was unintentional. Hell, he didn’t even want to be here. He wanted to go after you, to apologize over and over but he knew you needed your alone time. 

You were absolutely drained, closing your eyes trying to breathe evenly. Yet, the unfamiliar space made you tense, you only allowed yourself to close your eyes for a few seconds before the panic of not knowing what was around you kicked in again. God, you thought you were over your hypervigilance, constantly thinking something bad was around the corner. You even managed to sleep with your bedroom door unlocked now. It took years for you to feel safe in your own skin again and now in one night it was all destroyed. You felt like you were right back where you started five years ago. 

Sighing you sat up, your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. It is true what people say, trauma stays in your body. You sat up straight, taking a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds, then breathing out. Breathe and repeat. Your hands were sweaty and your limbs felt hollow. It felt like you were twenty again trying to paint on a smile even though all you wanted to do was scream and rage and cry. But that was not acceptable, not according to the way you were raised. All throughout your life you have been taught to smile and behave. As long as you could function you were okay and there was no need to be “a drama queen” as it was so often put whenever you tried to express your feelings.

Getting up you looked over the boxes the boys had brought in, all the different weapons and tools. You reached out, wiping a stain off a drill. Watching as the smudge slowly disappeared. It felt good, getting rid of an imperfection of something that should not be there. Cleaning has become your comfort whenever you feel like your feelings would overwhelm you. And once it was all clean you had your feelings in check and could put on a smile. Playing whatever role people expected of you, the good daughter, the loyal friend, the dutiful student. What role would you have to play now? You wondered. It had taken you years to break out of the need to mask and hide and now you wondered if playing a role was the only thing that would keep you and your cousin alive. Your head was spinning, so you turned searching for your bag, before realizing it was on the ground at Gary’s destroyed shop. Great not you had to somehow find the money to get a new laptop. But mostly you wanted your anti-anxiety pills.

Your head was spinning out of control when the door suddenly opened. Butcher came strutting in, an annoyed look at his face. Quickly you smoothed your expression, trying to appear casual. “I’m guessing whatever you did, didn’t pan out.” You leaned back on a desk behind you, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not to worry, luv.” He squared up in front of you, his broad chest looking even broader when he crossed his own arms in front of it. Daylight was streaming through the hole of the torn paper that covered the windows. The dust became more prominent, and Butcher seemed even bigger with the light illuminating him from the back. “Really? Because from where I am standing worrying is the only thing that I can actually do.” Butcher let out something between a snort and a laugh. He took a step closer to you, almost looming above you. “You know we have not been properly introduced. You know my name is Billy, Billy Butcher and what would yours be, sweetheart.” You clenched your jaw at the nickname. “I don’t know, Billy, sweetheart sounds pretty good to me.” You replied sarcastically. Butcher was clearly amused by you, and as much as you hated it, his cocky ‘everything is funny’ attitude got to you. You did not want him to see that his attitude got on your nerves so you pushed yourself off the desk and walked past him to the stairs leading to Frenchie and Hughie. “But once you get tired of the condescending nicknames, call me Y/N,” you threw him a glance over your shoulder before disappearing down the stairs. Butcher watched you go with a smirk on his face and an appreciative glance down your body. He did not know how to feel about you yet, but at least you were sassy and easy on the eyes. That was always fun.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Secret Sorrows || 3 -B.Barnes

Summary: Former special ops, Bucky, seeks solace in a cold refuge to escape his past. However, his haunted history catches up, unraveling mysteries that persist relentlessly.

Series Masterlist

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

It had been several days since the elder of the Astons had visited Van Alen's residence. Bucky found himself continuing his duty as a bodyguard for Ethan Van Alen, the sole heir of both conglomerate families.

If someone had said that Bucky would protect his ex-girlfriend's son, he would have laughed. But life worked in impossible ways. Here, he was doing just that.

While Bucky was on duty, he couldn't shake the need for answers about Y/N Aston. Despite learning that Iris and Y/N were identical twins, he still found it hard to believe. It was Iris, who had been with him back when they were young.

Yet, why did Y/N's actions mirror Iris's so closely?

If Y/N were more approachable, perhaps Bucky could find the answers. She might even tell him he was crazy. But with her busy schedule, stepping in for Ethan's father and managing both family businesses, she seemed almost impossible to talk to.

Y/N didn’t have time to comfort her only nephew. Since Bucky had to guard Ethan 24/7, he knew the kid wanted to talk to his relative. Both aunt and nephew lived in the same house, yet they rarely spent time together.

Bucky remembered Ethan's words, "My aunt is married to her job."

He thought it was a shame. Y/N was beautiful. With her status, she could have any man.

Wait, was she still single?

He shook his head, realizing how absurd it was to even entertain such thoughts considering Y/N was his employer.

Clearing his throat, Bucky walked towards Ethan's room, glancing at the kid's schedule. There were so many classes: foreign language, investment, fencing, public speaking, IT, swimming, and more.

Ethan was only 7 years old; he didn’t have time to play, especially since it was only a week after his parents' funeral.

Bucky knocked on Ethan’s door.

“Come in,” Ethan called out.

Bucky entered to find Ethan practicing the violin. Though classical music wasn't his preference, Ethan's skill didn't sound like that of a beginner.

Ethan stopped playing and placed the violin back in its case. “What class do I have next?”

“Swimming class,” Bucky replied.

Ethan sighed. “Can you teach me instead?”

Bucky hesitated. “If you want, but you know everything has to go through protocol.”

Ethan pouted. “At least, today, you have to accompany me.”

Bucky's instincts told him something didn't seem right. “Alright.”

Ethan went to his wardrobe; even at his young age, he had already been taught to pack his things. Bucky still found himself in awe of the kid's wardrobe room; it was bigger than his own bedroom in Antarctica.

While Ethan searched for his swimming goggles, he asked, “Has my aunt already left?”

Bucky replied, “Yes,” noticing Ethan's shoulders slump at the confirmation. He asked gently, “Do you want to talk to her?”

Ethan shook his head. “No, she’s busy. I don’t want to bother her.” Having prepared everything, he added, “Let’s go.”

When Bucky arrived at the swimming pool, he saw an athletic man. From the first impression, Bucky could already read him: overly proud and cocky.

“Bucky, right? I’ve been informed you’ll be the new guard. I’m alright if you want to join us,” the coach said.

Bucky gave a slight nod, glancing at Ethan. “Ethan, I’ll be standing here, okay?”

For a brief moment, Ethan's face brightened. Bucky wondered what made Ethan seem to not enjoy the class.

Ethan and the teacher did warm-ups before getting into the pool.

The coach instructed, “We will start with the freestyle and work on improving your lap times.”

When the teacher blew the whistle, Ethan began swimming to the other side. Bucky was impressed; for a kid his age, he was quite fast.

The coach checked his stopwatch. “1:50. You could do better than that.”

Bucky couldn't understand why the coach expected the little kid to go faster in a 100m freestyle.

"Again," the coach commanded.

"Again."

"You're getting slower."

Bucky held back his emotions when he noticed Ethan looking drained.

The coach looked down at Ethan and shook his head. "Your father would be disappointed with the result, Ethan."

Seeing Ethan sniffle and wipe his eyes, Bucky couldn't take it anymore.

He kicked the coach back and pushed him into the pool. The coach wasn't prepared and struggled to resurface before gasping for breath. Bucky held him under the water again.

“Can’t you see the boy is already breathless and exhausted?” Bucky questioned sharply.

The coach sputtered, "Wait… wait…"

"Do it again. I want to see how long you can hold your breath."

"Ugh."

Peter couldn’t believe what he saw. He rushed over from watching the CCTV to stop Bucky. "Bucky, what happened—"

Bucky shot Peter a warning look. "Get Ethan out of here. I need to talk to this guy."

Peter hurriedly escorted Ethan away, wondering why Bucky was so furious with the swimming coach.

Once they were gone, Bucky removed his black suit and throw it.

He pulled the coach from the pool like a fish. The coach coughed and caught his breath. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"A moment ago? Yes," Bucky admitted bluntly.

The coach's eyes widened. Never in his life had someone admitted to wanting to kill him straight to his face.

"I have a question: will Ethan enter the Olympics?" Bucky asked.

The coach shook his head. "No."

"Then why do you have to make him suffer like that? If that boy could talk, he would ask you to stop. But he can’t. As a teacher, you should know your students' capabilities."

"I only do what my employer asks me," the coach defended himself.

"Who? Miss Y/N Aston?" Bucky questioned.

"No! The Van Alen family," the coach confessed.

Bucky's grip on him loosened. This information was shocking. Why did the Van Alen family treat Ethan like this?

"Get up, gather your things, and never set foot in this place again," Bucky commanded.

The coach protested, "You have no—"

"Miss Aston hired me to protect her nephew. It’s better if you resign before you lose your teaching license. You know what I’m capable of," Bucky warned.

The coach ran away, leaving Bucky to ponder the situation.

On the other side, Y/N had just returned from the company. Spotting Peter and Ethan, her nephew walking with a towel draped around him, she observed Ethan's eagerness as he ran toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug.

Y/N asked Peter for an explanation, her expression remaining stoic as she listened to the summarized account.

Her heart ached hearing about her nephew's ordeal. Despite her typically reserved demeanor, a flicker of concern flashed in her eyes. She instructed Peter, "Tell Mr. Barnes to meet me at my office," her voice firm yet tinged with an underlying worry, before walking away.

Concerned, Ethan tugged at Peter's clothes. "Is Bucky in trouble because of me?" His voice carried a hint of apprehension.

Peter patted Ethan's back reassuringly, his tone gentle. "I'm sure he'll be alright. Don't worry." He tried to offer comfort to the young boy, knowing the weight of responsibility could be heavy on his small shoulders.

In Y/N's office, she was signing documents while Bucky stood before her, his presence commanding attention. She remained so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even lift her head when she spoke, "You want to explain why a half-naked man in a speedo ran away screaming from my house?"

Bucky answered casually, "Well, yeah, since I threatened him." His tone was nonchalant, but there was a hint of underlying tension in his voice.

Y/N looked up, her expression unreadable, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering in her eyes.

Bucky still wasn’t accustomed to looking directly into her eyes; there was something pulling at him that he couldn’t quite describe. "The way I do my job may be different from anyone here, but I can't let the person I'm protecting feel unsafe. Do you know Ethan's swimming coach did it on purpose, and it was ordered by the Van Alen family?" His voice carried a note of frustration, a rare glimpse of emotion from the typically stoic man.

Y/N didn't respond immediately; it seemed like she already knew.

Gritting his teeth, Bucky wondered what was wrong with wealthy people. She had everything, so why didn’t she want to mend her relationship with Ethan? His frustration simmered beneath the surface, evident in the tenseness of his jaw.

Bucky said firmly, his voice tinged with determination, "If you have at least 5 minutes, I suggest you talk to Ethan." With that, he left the room, his footsteps echoing with purpose.

Y/N's secretary clicked her tongue, then turned to her boss, her expression reflecting concern. "Do you want to fire him?" There was a note of uncertainty in her voice, wary of the potential repercussions.

Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the closed door, "No, just fire the swimming coach." Her tone was decisive, yet there was a hint of resignation in her voice. She looked at her secretary, her gaze unwavering. "Cancel the rest of my schedule today."

“But, ma’am, you have an important call this evening." The secretary's voice held a hint of concern, recognizing the significance of the upcoming call.

"I will call them tomorrow. Send a formal apology letter," Y/N ordered, her tone final, a sense of determination underlying her words.

*********

Y/N went to Ethan's bedroom, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

Ethan, who was playing blocks with Bucky, was surprised to see his aunt, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation. As she entered the room, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a sense of tension dissipating.

“Auntie,” Ethan greeted her, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Looking nervous, he turned to Bucky, who gave him a reassuring nod, his silent support evident in his expression.

Approaching Y/N, Ethan said, “Aunt, can I change my swimming coach?” His words were hesitant, a mixture of hope and apprehension lacing his tone.

Y/N replied, her voice calm yet distant, “Sure, I’ll call the Olympic coach.”

Ethan hesitated, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Bucky. “No, can Bucky teach me?” His voice held a note of pleading, a silent plea for connection.

Y/N responded, her tone neutral, “I don’t mind. You should ask him.” Her words were measured, a reflection of her reserved nature.

Ethan turned to Bucky, his eyes wide with anticipation. “Bro Bucky already agreed, I just wanted to ask for your permission first.” There was a hint of excitement in his voice, a spark of hope igniting within him.

Bucky felt relieved that they were finally communicating, his expression softening with understanding.

Ethan continued, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. “And can I ask you another favor?” His voice was eager, his eyes shining with anticipation.

Y/N encouraged him to speak, her expression remaining impassive, yet there was a flicker of something in her eyes, a hint of warmth beneath the surface.

“For foreign language class, can I just study German and Korean? German engineering is great, and South Korea has good products, it's good for my future. For investment class, can I learn how to trade with real money? And can I study martial arts with Bucky instead of fencing?” Ethan's words poured out in a rush, his enthusiasm palpable.

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his surprise evident in his expression. These weren’t typical requests from a 7-year-old, yet there was a sense of determination in Ethan's voice, a silent plea for understanding.

Glancing at Y/N, who didn’t seem surprised, he realized both aunt and nephew shared the same traits, a sense of resilience amidst adversity.

Y/N asked, her tone measured, “Anything else?” Her words were neutral, yet there was a hint of something in her voice, a subtle shift in her demeanor.

Ethan shook his head, his excitement palpable. “That’s everything.”

Y/N assured him, her voice distant yet tinged with a hint of warmth, “I’ll instruct my secretary to change your teachers, and give you the money for you to invest.” before leaving the room, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.

Bucky couldn’t shake off the feeling of Y/N being distant from her nephew, his concern is evident in his expression. He thought Ethan felt abandoned again, but it seemed he was mistaken.

Ethan ran to him, his eyes excitedly shining, exclaiming, “Bucky, did you see that? My aunt smiled today.” There was a sense of joy in his voice, a silent celebration of a small victory.

Confused, Bucky probably needed to get his eyes checked, as he hadn’t seen her smile at all. But as long as Ethan was happy, he would agree to anything.

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[s-sturn]

𖥔 OPEN ARMS!

part 2

summary: where Chris begins to keep Y/N away from his life after thinking he no longer wanted Y/N, then the girl decides to leave him after getting so tired of the relationship, making Chris realize that he was totally wrong.

warnings: angst, little fight, SADDDDD!!, swearing, regret, crying!!

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Y/N’s POV

Chris was going to go out once again with his friends, leaving me aside as he has been doing these last few weeks.

He has been taking me away from his life for days, sometimes messing with his phone while telling something interesting about my day, he seemed much more interested in sending torpedoes to his friends than in hearing me speak.

All that was tiring, I see Chris finishing fixing his hair and sending a message to a friend of his who would be with him at this party, he left the room not even making a point of saying goodbye.

My mind was surrounded by thoughts, I felt that it was no longer important in the brunette's life, and that he didn't love me anymore and that he could even be with another girl.

Tears began to wet my pink cheeks, while I felt empty and alone, thinking that I lost the love of my life, and that now I would have to leave it.

I fell asleep in the middle of my thoughts, waking up the next day without feeling the presence of Chris by my side, leaving me so hurt.

I got up from the boy's bed, sitting on the edge, taking a deep breath and cleaning my face as I always did.

I leave my boyfriend's room going up the stairs of the house, reaching the kitchen, meeting the triplets.

I give a kind smile when I see Nick and Matt saying good morning, I would expect something from Chris, but he is as usual, on his phone.

━━━ How about we go out to eat? After all, none of us have anything to do. ━━━ Nick asked everyone at the table, while Matt and I agreed with our heads and I soon turn to Chris

━━━ I have things to do today, Nate invited me to another party and I'll go. ━━━ The brunette said arrogant getting up from the table and leaving for his room, where he would stay there, for a long time.

I get upset and irritated, making me get up from the table and go down the stairs to the door of Chris' room, I hit that piece of wood several times, soon coming away with Chris' angry expression.

━━━ Stop! That's fucking annoying! What do you want? ━━━ He said angry and rude, making me incredulous about the way he talked to me.

━━━ What the fuck is that, Chris?! You keep going out to parties, ignoring your brothers and me, who am your girlfriend! ━━━ My tone was angry, very angry.

━━━ What a drama, Y/N! I'm just having fun! ━━━ He rolled his eyes slightly as he crossed his arms

━━━ But to have fun, you need to kick me out of your life so much?! ━━━ After my question he was quiet for a few seconds, thinking about what to say.

━━━ Maybe. ━━━ My mouth fell, I couldn't speak or say anything, tears threaten to fall, but I didn't let them fall. ━━━ Maybe I don't even love you anymore. ━━━ His tone was arrogant and cold, I didn't recognize him anymore, the tears that threatened to fall finally wet my face, flashbacks come to my mind, reminding me of my first date with Chris, our first kiss, our first "I love you", our first look.

I didn't believe that the man who said he loved me so much, gave up the love he had on me, I sighed closing my eyes, while he took his attention to my person and returned to the phone.

━━━ So, I'll let you go, we're done. ━━━ My tone was crying, I left the bedroom door going up the stairs without looking back, my vision was blurred by so many tears accumulated on my face.

Nick and Matt asked what happened and I just replied that we had finished what made the two brothers go into shock.

They knew that Chris was the love of my life, that I wanted to marry him, have children.

I quickly said goodbye to the two of them leaving the house quickly, getting into my car and going back to my apartment.

I felt an inexplicable emptiness in my chest, an emptiness that Chris filled, my heart was broken, I didn't feel like doing anything else, just lying in my bed and sleeping for days and days, and when I woke up all this was just a horrible nightmare.

I thought at what moment he stopped loving me, at what moment I stopped being his girl, my head exploded, while my eyes looked like a waterfall.

CHRIS’ POV

It's been exactly 2 months since I last saw Y/N.

She cried so much, and I didn't comfort her as I always did, I caused her the pain and I never noticed it.

As soon as I heard the words she had left me, I bitterly regretted what I had said, I just wanted to run after her, hug her, kiss her, and beg for her forgiveness while saying how much I loved her, even if for a stupid reason I had hidden and denied these feelings.

For some point in my life, I felt that my relationship with Y/N was too good, which made me scared of everything ending and I ended up hurting myself again, so I pushed her away and denied my feelings, causing an inexplicable pain in both of us, which for some reason I had never noticed, I went out to parties and came back a lot in the afternoon, I always saw her lying on my bed, sleeping peacefully, it made me feel so guilty, for thinking that I really didn't have any feelings for her anymore, and that morning when I said those words I regretted it in the same second.

I felt so much guilt to the point that I didn't feel like doing anything else, I didn't want to eat or talk, I just grabbed the only blouse there was of Y/N in which there was her smell, I slept calmly, thinking she was there, and when I woke up and returned to my reality, I cried like a baby.

I can't stand the way she is missed anymore, her touch, her smell, her kiss, I miss everything about her.

I regret so much that I let her go.

I hated this thing sm, omfg 😭😭😭 And i’m so sorry if this post has spelling mistakes!

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[wonderingpanda]

Hello!! Could you please either write a scenario or Headcanon for either rottmnt or bayverse x reader for pining turtles (turtles with a crush on reader) and how they try to “romance” them? Who’s more upfront who isn’t it? What kind of gestures they do? Please and thank you

Love Me Please

Rise!Turtles x Reader

Originally I was going to do both Bayverse and Rottmnt but I wrote this pretty late and couldn’t come up with many ideas for Bayverse. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Raphael

I feel like Raph is the kind of person to act casual around his crush and then freak out later

He’ll get excited around you and try to show you extra care

He’s also going to be very worried for your safety

If you had plans to go over to the lair and end up being 10 minutes late he’s already picturing the worst

Raph does try show off his muscle and strength sometimes

Particularly if you watch him train, it’s a huge confidence boost

But his favourite moments are when you get to watch him win against one of his brothers while sparring

Oh come on you totally cheated. Sorry Leo rules are rules. That was awesome Raph! O-oh Y/N! Thanks.

He is a gentle giant so you can expect him to be extra attentive to your every need

And of course he’s giving out the best hugs of all time

While he may be pretty chill about his feelings, if you flirt with him it will leave him a flustered mess

I’m talking, he may be unable to form coherent sentences for several hours

At the end of the day, he just really wants you to like him and will always be there for you no matter what

Leonardo

Oh boy, here we go

The second Leo realised he liked you there was no more peace

You won’t get a single moment alone because this boy will just be everywhere

He’ll try every pick-up line he can think of and will find any excuse to flirt with you

The guy has no shame because he makes it look like a joke

Spoiler alert, it’s not

Have I ever told you I think you’re beautiful No, why? Cause you’re beautiful. Aww thanks Leo. *kisses on the cheek* *Dies inside*

While Leo might act confident on the outside if you try to flirt back with him his heart will instantly melt

But he’d never show it of course, he’s too cool for that

He is also a complete drama queen so he may occasionally dramatise things when talking about you with his brothers

And yes, he will talk about you frequently because how else is he meant to go over your every interaction from that day

He’s also an easily jealous person so if he sees any of your human friends as competition, hide them

Hide them fast

Another important thing to note is that he loves to show off

He’s got fighting moves, skateboard tricks, video game scores, comic collections and more

He loves you, wants you and will let you know loud and clear

But he’s only “kidding”

Donatello

Donnie is far more reserved in comparison to Leo

He also has a very complicated idea of what he wants

He wants you to know he likes you without you knowing he wants you to know he likes you

That being said, there are a lot of different ways to tell if Donnie is pining for you

He’ll feel more comfortable with you in his lab vs others

Lots of gifts and is always free for whatever favour you need

You can expect to be given more privileges around his tech

But that’s also because he wants to impress you with it

He might also make small comments to hint he likes you

What were you thinking!? Ah but you see my sweet beautiful Y/N, he wasn’t thinking. Don, quit flirting with your girlfriend and come save me! Not my girlfriend!…*whispers* yet.

He’s the kind of person who will admire from afar and won’t try to get super close physically

Although if he’s really excited then he may give you a hug or two

He will also pretend to hate any romantic aspects of holidays to hide how much he’d love to experience them with you

Valentines, mistletoe, New Years kiss, he acts like he can’t stand them

And you can bet that after every moment you two have he’ll be in his lab celebrating like there’s no tomorrow

Because a dancing Donnie is a happy Donnie

Michelangelo

Mikey just goes with the flow

Wait he likes you! Oh well, time to show tons of love and affection

It’s hard to tell if he likes you or not because he acts the same way around everyone else

Lots of physical affection, big hugs, warm smiles, hand holding

One unique thing you might be able to nitpick at though is his kisses

That’s right, Mikey will constantly be kissing your forehead or cheek if he gets the chance

You’re also one of his biggest inspirations

The amount of times this turtle will tell you to hold your pose so he can sketch it

He wants you to understand that to him you’re beautiful and inspiring

Compliments are another big thing for Mikey

He won’t stop telling you how pretty, smart and cute he thinks you are

Hey Y/N do you mind standing right there for a second? Uh sure, another drawing? Yup! Sorry you’re just so pretty I can’t stop drawing you. Awwww Mikey! That’s really sweet.

He is definitely more upfront about his feelings and is just waiting for the day he can open up and say he loves you

I hope this was similar to what you wanted. Have an amazing day/night wherever it is you are!✨

[ggggggfft]

Have you ever helped detransition someone before, if not outright forced their detransition?

That depends on your definition of “forced.” I would say I have coerced girls into detransitioning, but the ones I’ve toyed with have always wanted to be stripped of their faux masculinity in the most humiliating ways. I give them plenty of opportunities to walk away. To say no and try to abandon this particular kink. But they always - Always come crawling back telling me how drippy are for transphobic porn. How they need Daddy to fuck their little girly pussy and turn them straight. They can’t help it. Craving dominate male seed and obeying their biological urge to reproduce is literally hardwired into their smaller brains. They will always be female first and fakeboys second.

My first experience with detransing was with my ftm girlfriend of several years. He was a she when we first met and started dating and when he finally worked up the courage to transition he only did so socially. I continued fucking his soft, womanly body and playing with his massive tits like nothing had changed, because aside from a few key words and a new name, there was nothing different about her. We were still having straight sex with my cock buried deep inside her slutty testosterone free pussy. She still loved to have her nipples teased and played with and it made her so wet. She was still fertile and could get pregnant at any time. She wasn’t on birth control.

After about two years of being out and still no HRT we began to play with her gender in the bedroom. She liked when I told her to take it like a girl. That I was raping her like a girl. That she would be a good girl for Daddy’s cock and let me use her pussy. In her mind, it was all pretend, playing into her fantasies of being a femboy. For me it was the perfect way to subconsciously train her to enjoy her body as it was. For her to come to terms with her birth sex and accept her womanhood. To go back to being my girlfriend. We broke up and to this day she is still going by he/him pronouns, but she has had no surgeries and while she did recently start hormone therapy she is taking the lowest dose possible. She has a very cute little mustache and gets misgendered every day by strangers, coworkers, and even supportive family members who are fully aware she is trans and has been for years.

We fuck now and then and when we do she asks me to fuck her cunt instead of her ass and get her pregnant. She calls her clitoris her babydick or even her boyclit and the last time we fucked I was testing the waters and called it her clitoris and she said nothing in her defense. Every time I pull her pants off she’s wearing panties and she will “cross dress” if I tell her too. I’ve never come out and told her about my fetish but I feel like part of her must know or at least suspect the truth, and yet she still can’t keep her legs closed around me. She’s my long term project and I hope as her biological clock starts counting down she finally cracks and gives in to what she obviously needs.

What really kicked off my hunt for fakeboys was a girl here on tumblr. I liked her blog description, she was 18, and she had reblogged so many posts begging for transphobic asks and rape threats. I sent her what I now think was a pretty mid dm describing how I’d fix her if she was my daughter and I found her blog. She responded by sending me pics of her shaved teen pussy and begging for more filth. I was hooked after that. She’s now fully addicted to misogyny and incest porn. She’s my good little zoomer slut who I can always hit up for pussy inspections or to make her drink her own piss. She fully accepts that she is a woman in mind, body, and soul, but we agree she should continue hormone treatment because it makes her even more horny and depraved.

She has gone out in a wig and breast forms and dresses in public for me and will sit in cafes with her legs spread and her big red cherry and drooling slick cunt on display for the world to see. She’s terrified of being clocked and actually hate crimed every time, but she just makes such a convincing cis girl that nobody ever notices. As soon as she gets home she gets on cam with me and rubs her clitoris while thanking me for showing her what a dumb tranny she is. I have her crouch in front of the camera and finger herself until she squirts onto her gym clothes for tomorrow. I have her chant that she is not a man. She will never be a man. She is her cunt and cunts are slaves to cock. I have her endlessly repeat that she wants to be a girl because girls are stupid and inferior and get to be dumb, brainless cumrags eating ass and getting fisted all day long while she jackhammers a dildo into her sweaty cunt.

She started out wanting to be misgendered and feminized, but I’m proud to say I broke her. If it doesn’t involve detrans and misogyny, she can’t get off any more. We’ve discussed it and if we were to move in together, with her coming to a new city in a new state where nobody knows her she would definitely detrans for real.

Right now I’m working on a girl who hasn’t come to terms with the reality of her desires. She is also a filthy sex slave but she insists on using those annoying he/they pronouns. She’s entertained the idea of becoming my good girl all the way, but is still reluctant. I get so turned on watching her try to resist her desires but knowing it’s futile in the end. if I want her to be a girl, she will be a girl. End of story.

Last night I had a great session with another ftm who started out being unsure and using he/him, but by 4 in the morning I had her telling me how she wanted my big fat cock to fuck a baby into her in front of her family. How she wants her dad to see his grandson being made. She fell completely in love with her vagina and the pleasure it can bring real men by the end of the night.

I’m waiting to sniff out the perfect gold-star tomboy faildyke to forcibly detrans. I want her to be defiant and tough and mean as hell so that when she’s a fucked out set of holes who only lives to worship men and get pregnant and give birth and has an IQ of 50 and giant plastic tits that victory will feel all the more glorious.

There are others but this post is already so long. If you’d like to make it longer, you can always dm me or send anons if you’re nervous. I love knowing there’s a shy girl behind the screen somewhere frantically rubbing her clit to these asks.

[nicka-nell]

Pairing: Suna x reader, Semi x reader, best friend Atsumu x reader

Note: Rockstar/Band-AU, angst, hurt, mdni, SMAU, text part

Addition: Hi you all! I had a lot of fun with this request. This is the end of the mini-smau for now. I would be happy if you tell me if you like stuff like this or if you like a HC in one post more. ☺️💚

Prev | Chapter 8 (END)

It was strange... Suna hadn’t had such a sickening feeling in his stomach for a long time. As if his stomach was spinning, as if he was about to vomit. But it wasn’t because of the alcohol, which he had been drinking almost like water recently. It was because he had seen the photos of you. The fact that he had read the news about you and Semi. Just the thought of seeing you with another man makes him angry. Jealous… 

“Shit!” he curses and slumps down on his bed, looking at his phone. At a photo that a paparazzo had taken of you. It’s not really sharp but Suna clearly recognizes your facial features and those of Semi... only that Semi is much too close to you for his taste… And yet you look happy... It frustrates him… Letting out a sigh, he closes the site with the picture, searches for some bars to blow off some steam, to numb his feelings. 

- - - - - -

“Semi, Semi Eita? Is that you?” it suddenly slips out of Suna’s mouth as he stands at the bar counter and sees a man who looks too much like the rising idol. The man puts his credit card in his pocket before he stares in Suna’s direction.

It is obviously Semi Eita… How pathetic… Life really wants to punish him even more than it already has. “Suna...” Semi says a little more quietly so that the other party guests don’t turn around and, in the worst case, recognize one of them. 

He takes a step towards Suna, standing proud and tall in front of the equally tall man with green eyes.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Semi asks, although he can guess what Suna wants from him. Suna looks past Semi, checking if you are anywhere to be seen. But he doesn’t see you. You’re probably in one of the VIP rooms, or Semi is here alone. But no, why should he go here alone?

As far as Suna could figure out, Semi doesn’t live anywhere near here. So why would he go to a local bar like this if he didn’t live here? You must be around here somewhere. This is his chance. Probably his last chance to talk to you. And even if he has to open every door to every single VIP room. But first he has to get past Semi. Giving Semi a slightly arrogant look, Suna puts his hands in his pockets. “As if... can’t a famous person just go out and party? After all, you’re here too.” 

Semi wrinkles his eyebrows skeptically. “But you spoke to me first... so what do you want? Do you want to talk about your ex-girlfriend?” Semi says a little more gruffly, but Suna continues to act nonchalant, even though his heart skips a beat at the word ‘ex-girlfriend’. 

“And what do you have to do with her?” he asks in an indifferent tone again, as if he doesn’t already know that there are several headlines about the two of you. Just as Semi is about to speak, the tall man feels a hand on his back and a few seconds later, you are standing next to him. “Eita... Tsumu met an old school friend and wanted to stay a little longer. Let’s go ho-” just as you’re about to finish your sentence, you see Semi’s grim eyes and look over to the front.

Your eyes widen, your mouth is suddenly dry and your hand, which was resting gently on Semi’s back a moment ago, clenches into a fist. What on earth is Suna doing here? It’s been so many months since he kicked you out of the band, but the betrayal is still buried deep inside you. Seeing him brings back all your feelings. His hurtful words, that cold look when he told you that nobody wants to hear your voice and how bad you are. His words had hurt you more back then than being kicked out of the band.

Suna’s heart starts to beat faster. It pained him when he finally saw you again. You may be wearing a face mask and a cap, but Suna would always recognize you, even from several meters away, with dyed hair, tinted contact lenses… He could always spot you. These green eyes look at you with an expression you can’t sort. Suna wants to say something, but he can’t think of any words. He just stands there, rooted to the spot.

“Eita... let’s go home...” you say, a little agitated, and grab his arm. Semi nods in understanding and takes the initial steps out of the club with you by his side. “Wait, let’s talk, please... P-please...” Suna says suddenly, instinctively trying to grab your wrist, but Semi stands between you, grasping Suna’s arm and giving him a serious look. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t want to make a fuss in front of so many people, just shakes his head before letting Suna go again.

“I don’t want to talk, Rintarou... Never again...” you reply in a cold, slightly hurt tone before walking out with Semi, not looking back in Suna’s direction.

Suna stands there frozen, not noticing the one groupie who approaches him and shakes his arm. “Oh my God, are you Suna? Can we take a picture together?” He doesn’t hear her. There are only two things going on in his head right now.

Atsumu, one of his closest friends, his bandmate was in contact with you all the time. Atsumu knew all the time where you lived, how you were doing… And yet he told him nothing. Suna cannot believe it. He feels betrayed by one of his closest friends. What about the others? Kita, Osamu, Yuki? Are any of them still in contact with you and no one has said anything? Suna can’t describe the feeling inside him right now.

He is angry, frustrated. His whole body feels warm and he can’t think straight right now. He feels like everyone has lied to him, lied to his face repeatedly, and watched him break down internally with a smile on their faces.

They all knew that he regretted it. That he kept trying to talk to you. It feels like everyone has turned their backs on him. Have let him down. “Shit...” Suna laughs in sheer frustration. Is that what it’s like to be deceived? Did you feel the same way back then?

Right now, Suna would like to go into every VIP room until he finds Atsumu just to pick a fight with him. Confront him. But he has no right to do so. Nevertheless, Suna would rather talk to you than to kick Atsumu’s ass. Again something shakes his arm and only now does he notice the fan girl. She looks at him questioningly.

When did she get here? What does this girl want from him? Instead of answering her question, Suna pulls his arm away and starts moving with a somewhat agitated, “Sorry, I have to go.” The girl seems disappointed, but Suna has no time for that.

Without turning in her direction again, Suna storms out of the bar, out into the now chilly night. Everything is already dark, only the faint illumination of the lanterns is still on. He turns to the left, then to the right. But you are not there. His legs instinctively start moving in the hope that he might find the right path. And it seems as if the gods are on his side. Because it doesn’t take long before he spots you with Semi on the other side of the street at the entrance to a small park. Uncharacteristically for him, he smiles faintly when he sees you, studies you and takes another step in your direction. But he soon realizes that the gods are not on his side after all. On the contrary… It’s as if they want to laugh at him.

Yet, he watches as Semi takes your hand, brings it to his still masked lips like a gentleman and kisses the back of your hand before taking a step backwards and pulling you towards him with a spin. Happily, you laugh and land in his arms, nestled against his chest, as you bury your head in the fabric of his jacket.

Your new lover runs his free hand over the back of your neck, strolling forward to your chin to pull your face up in his direction in a tender way. He glances around, but the street is empty. Suna is standing in a dark part of the street, so neither of you can see him. After making sure that nobody is looking, Semi takes off his face mask, slides his long fingers under the loop of your own mask before releasing it on one side and leaning down to give you a kiss that is so loving and gentle.

A kiss that Suna had always given you at the beginning of the relationship. A kiss that he would love to give you again. But instead, another man is kissing you now. Seems to make you happier than Suna ever could have. He knew that it would happen at some point. That you would find a new partner one day. But why now? And why does it hurt so much?

Suna feels sick again. He feels like he has to throw up and at the same time, it is as if he has run twenty kilometers. His chest hurts, he finds it hard to breathe and his eyes... they burn. They feel warm... and suddenly his vision blurs before something warm is running down his cheeks… Are those... tears? Is he crying?

Is he crying because another man is kissing you? No… It’s something else… It is the despair, the realization that he has actually lost the person who was so important to him back then… Still is. The realization that he took a wrong path. That the greed was too strong and he had lost sight of who and what had led him to form a band in the first place, to become successful. And that he had lost sight of the fact that he never wanted to form the band to become a worldwide celebrity, but to watch you shine on stage, blossom and live the dream you always wanted to live, while he supports you from the side with his guitar and vocals. He wanted to see you happy. See you smile and stay by your side.

And now... you seem to be happy… Very much so. However, without him. And knowing that this man, Semi Eita... that he makes you happy in a way that Suna couldn’t, is killing him. He feels like the road that lies ahead of him and separates him from you cannot be crossed. That you are no longer reachable for him, even though you are so close. Suna could stretch out his arm, maybe take twenty or thirty steps to catch up with you, hold you tight… But what next?

Suna looks at his hand, which he had unconsciously stretched forward. It trembles before falling back down, almost numb. He opens his mouth... but nothing comes out. It feels as if someone is choking him. Frustrated, he bites his lip and does nothing more than watch you move away from him, hand in hand with your new lover, until you are no longer in sight. It’s over… And it was his fault. His greed...

“Please... I’m sorry...” he whispers and looks into nothing but the darkness for a few more minutes. To where he saw you. Where he heard your laughter and saw the shining eyes that had unconsciously always made him smile back then. But now it is clear that all of this will remain just a memory for him. 

[cabeswaterdrowned]

I don’t want to go off in the tags of that no fandom post so much but your bisexual PowerPoint Gansey tags. The idea of Gansey not comprehending bisexuality during the road trip SO funny to me because it implies either A) post-Pynch, Gansey just thought Adam realized he was always gay, something that really assuages Gansey’s guilt about “stealing Blue” (he is So Insane) or B) Gansey fully thinks being bi is just an Adam Thing. Because he’s Adam Parrish! Of course he’d have a special sexuality just for him. If anyone would, it would be Adam!

for anyone wondering these were the tags: https://www.tumblr.com/lesbianbluesey/753538524458991616?source=shareI think both are Highly possible and hilarious, but I’m going to go with the former because I do enjoy leaning into the ‘Gansey’s repressed controlled republican parents reaaally messed up his worldview’ aspect of everything he has going on, and because your right this would totallly be something he takes as “I don’t have to feel guilty about stealing (‘stealing’ because like. there was a lot more going onto that but in his head) my best friends girlfriend anymore!” *head in the clouds from crazy ex girlfriend starts playing in the background*. Now I’m thinking about him potentially telling Blue about Adam and Ronan (since we never really see her learn about them so I think there are several ways that could have happened but one of them is through Gansey) and him framing it as Adam came out to me as gay and in love with Ronan, well first off I think Blue would be way more surprised about the latter part of that than the former, and she would also have a lot of different feelings about this revelation.

 First of all I think it would be the opposite of Gansey where she starts to feel More guilty re: their break up and wonders if saying he should kiss Gansey was homophobic of her (it wasn’t it was extremely funny and cool of her, imo), she also feels really bad that her first normal-ish relationship with a boy was with someone using her (which isn’t Not true for their relationship in a way, just not in the way she’s thinking of) and feels extra annoyed with Adam for the Ninos argument (which she should because he was out of line in that scene imo, even though I also love that scene because it’s hysterical to me for reasons I’ve previously addressed and I love when Bluedam are cunts especially to each other) now that she thinks he was never actually into her. But she doesn’t want to be homophobic, so I feel like Blue tries to be a bit Overly Nice to Adam after this for the rest of the school year and it really unnerves/scares him, and then Gansey on the other hand allows himself to be more overtly cunty with Adam than he ever has before during that time period which Also weirds Adam out but he puts it down to him going through a lot what with dying and all. This would actually explain some things about the dynamic shifts between trc and td3 if this happened… 

To be clear Blue is coming at this from the opposite end of background effecting world view from Gansey; unlike Gansey who doesn’t know he’s bi or that bisexuality exists Blue doesn’t know She is bi but does know bisexuality and polyamory exist because she grew up surrounded by it, in fact I’ve said it before but I think the reason Blue isn’t aware she’s bi is… well one reason is she hasn’t had many close relationships with girls her age who aren’t in her family due to not having had many friends growing up since she was largely othered/bullied and then grew an armor/self-isolated (I actually have a tentative headcanon that in addition to her being bullied for being generally different in her youth some of that bullying had a homophobic bent to it because of the way she dresses and what the psychics are associated with and it being Henrietta.. it just seems right, so I think that would be an influence also) but also more importantly, Orla would have been out as bisexual since she was in high school and Blue is a Contrarian tm and Can Not have the same sexuality as Orla. Just on principle. She did feel jealous sometimes watching Orla go on dates with boys and girls but put that down to just general she-can-kiss-people-without-fear-of-murder-lips-and-I-can’t jealousy. Also I feel like Gansey might be able to grasp bi women more than bi men because of a) unfortunate tropes around that time b) the 300 fox way women c) Possibly Helen who I think could be sapphic but whether or not she’s sapphic definitely thinks Gansey is gay, this is textually canon, and definitely wants Gansey to be covert about it won’t go into this more / putting a pin in that for now. But anyway I think both Blue and Gansey would be more likely to consider the other being bi than themselves, is the thing I was getting at there. 

Anyway! I definitely think that after being told of Adam’s gayness Blue immediately understands that Adam was in love with Gansey based on all of the first two books when thinking back, Gansey on the other hand does not even consider the possibility of Adam ever being into him (at least not consciously, possibly deep DEEP down there’s some wondering but repression + plausible deniability + not wanting to seem arrogant (because I do think there’s a gray area sometimes between Gansey being oblivious about certain social situations vs him just being very used to compartmentalizing and prioritizing the quest) keep this out of conscious thought). So I think both Blue and Gansey need an outlet to talk through some of their Adam feelings but know the other can’t do that for them, which leads to (not to self plug but! This might be a scene that comes up in my ‘Reading TRB’ fic at some point… since I am playing with some intentional parallels between Sarchengsey and Bluedansey there, or at least that’s the intention in the mess of everything I have going on there) them separately gabbing to Henry about their feelings re: their situationship break ups, the shifting group dynamics with Pynch etc. and I think their accounts of the whole mess are Very different so Henry keeps getting more confused the more he listens to them, he doesn’t even know if one of them dated Adam or neither of them or both and it’s very frustrating but also intriguing for him he just wants to know everything (and he has some additional context from his Gansey stalking which should be … an interesting comparison point). 

Also when Gansey learns what bisexuality he immediately goes ‘I realized something about Adam!’ Henry, simultaneously expecting this and also wary: what about him? Gansey: He only told me that he loved Ronan he didn’t tell me he never liked Blue, Adam must be bisexual that means he must have been in love with Blue because who wouldn’t be that means I’m a horrible awful person and don’t deserve to live 😭😭 Henry, under his breath: goddamnit I can’t believe I’ve been trying to fuck you Gansey: what?? Henry: __ 

this was a fun thank you!

tagging a couple other blogs who I hope will enjoy my insane spiral, at least a lil: @immaterial-pearl @crimeronan

[peacesells-imbuying]

I'm so late to this but I saw you wanted angst. So... Sami Yaffa with a girlfriend who like SEVERELY struggles with drug abuse. Like she takes more pills than she needs to and always lies to him, saying she's not doing it anymore and one day he comes home to her on the floor, barely conscious and she refuses to tell him what she took and how much of it because she doesn't want him to hate her for lying. So eventually Sami just forces her to go to the hospital and after testing her they find out she took a deadly dosage of something so now she has to stay in the hospital and go to a mental hospital for a week because she overdosed and almost died. And like Sami tries to call her (in hospitals your friends and family can call you and the nurses will give you the phone but you can't call anyone) but his girlfriend just refuses it everytime because she's scared he's going to break up with her. When her week(s) in the hospital ends she doesn't know Sami is the one coming to get her so when the nurses lead her to like the exit and she sees Sami she just doesn't say a word to him the entire drive back to the house out of fear. You can decide whether or not they break up or Sami stays with her and loves her still :3

Fear and Lies (S.Y)

Hope it was good :) masterlist couldn’t decide the ending. OMG why it took SO LONG for me to post this 💀 tried lol no more posting after this until 12/24💕

Sami struggled to comprehend the allure of drugs. Then, he met her and suddenly, his curiosity multiplied. Their love was undeniable, but something felt off. Was it the drugs and the alcohol? Or were all her promises and truths just empty lies? Every "I promise" and "I'm not lying" left a painful ache in his heart. He understood that she needed medication, and he didn't judge her for that. Still something bugged him.

Once touring was over, Sami arrived at their shared apartment, immediately noticing everything seemed untouched. The coffee was still warm, filled to the brim, and the plates laid in the sink. Pills scattered the bedroom floor. His heart sank, her lies had tricked him once again. Sami cursed himself for being naive. 

Upon entering the bathroom, he sat on the cold tile floor with a frown. “We’re going to the hospital right now.” Sami carefully wrapped his girlfriend’s arm around his shoulder. 

“What? Fuck no, Sami stop-“

“You can barely do anything. I’m driving.” 

She sighed and sat on the passenger seat trying to stay awake. The guilt ate her alive. Losing tract of all the lies said.

As the doctor and nurse checked her body, shocked faces appeared. “She will be needing to stay for the next week, then she’ll be transferred to a mental hospital. She has consumed too many pills along with a substance very deadly.” The nurse walked away leaving the couple alone. Sami looked down at his girlfriend and fear took over her. 

“What did you swallow? And how much?” Sami felt like crying but held it together. All she does is shakes her head, refusing to answer. Sami left it at that. 

The time came for her to be transferred and it was tough. Every chance Sami got to call her, she never picked up. The reason being, she was drowning in her own guilt and shame. She wasn’t perfect. Far from it actually, but she could’ve at least tried. Now the fear of being alone without Sami broke her. Weeks pass by and freedom arrived. 

“Alright, follow me. Your driver is here.” She kept her hope up for family members or close friends but to her disappointment, it was neither. Sami came instead. 

From the parking lot, to the car, to all the way back home- it was silent. Neither of them were going to break it either. 

Eventually though, the tense silence got the best of them so Sami broke it. “I know we both barely had time for each other. With me touring with the band and you in the hospital.” This made her heart beat incredibly fast. 

“Yeah..look Sami. The amount of times I had to lie from the beginning is crazy. I should’ve just been honest with my struggles and addiction.” He sat down next to her. “Why weren’t you?” 

“Because I didn’t want lost you.” Sami fragile heart shattered as he embraced her into a tight hug. “You’re never going too lose me.” Hearing those words broke her into tears. In the end, Sami helped his girlfriend with her struggles which lead to a better relationship than before.